


End Game

by alex4968



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crime, M/M, Mob AU, Mob Boss Harry, Randsom, Slow Build, bottom!h, top!L
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex4968/pseuds/alex4968
Summary: Harry styles is the most feared man in London, notorious for always getting everything he wants. All of that changes when Louis comes around and opens his eyes to a new, beautiful side of the world.





	End Game

**Author's Note:**

> *drumroll* here it finally is ladies, gentlemen, and anyone in between. This fic is my baby, and I love it more than I should, so please enjoy! A massive, huge, huge huge huge thank you to my beta who seriously made this thing absolutely perfect. And another massive thank you to my lovely lovely artist [Laura](http://harrehleh.tumblr.com/) ! You should all go send her some love for the two awesome pieces she gave me for this fic, which you can see as you read them :) 
> 
> [Here's](http://louis-love.tumblr.com/post/160971500140/end-game-by-louis-love-pairing-louisharry) the post on tumblr, and I would really appreciate it if you'd give it a reblog!

**July 6 th, 2017 **

Harry cocks his head to the side and flashes a smile, perfect white teeth contrasting the spatters of bright red blood on the walls, on the floor, on his arms. He hums softly, just a low sound in the back of his throat as he pulls his hair up into a bun, twisting the curly strands of hair away from his face and up to the top of his hair. He runs his tongue over his slightly-chapped lips, then clicks his tongue and takes a few steps closer to the man, bound and held in the chair in the center of the room.

There are really only two things Harry can’t stand in the world. One, is having things stolen from him. Particularly things of monetary value, or money itself. No one’s ever stolen money from him and lived to tell the story, and he really, _really_ thought everyone knew that by now. But, it seems that everyone was an overstatement, just because the red-head sitting in front of him didn’t seem to get the memo.

The only other thing he can’t stand are talkers. Snitches, traitors, _talkers._ Anyone who opens their mouth when they don’t have a place to – he can’t stand those people. He’s never taken it easy on those types, the ones who stab him in the back with his own knife and expect him to clean it off – he’s never killed them clean. The man in front of him now is one of the lucky ones, really.

Harry doesn’t often enjoy getting his own hands dirty, doesn’t usually pull the trigger himself and watch as the final, all powerful deed is done. That’s the joy of being the leader, isn’t it? Being able to have someone else do that for him with just a snap of a finger and a whistle and a command of what to use. The terror his people have for him doesn’t run deep – he’s the kindest person in the world to those who deserve it, but his people know that the only way they will deserve it is to listen. When he says _jump_ – they don’t have to _ask_ how high. They wait for him to say.

Harry has a reputation floating about his name – he’s ruthless. A coldblooded killer, in it for the fun. It’s not exactly true, really, he doesn’t _enjoy_ killing – he’s never been comfortable with the permanence that comes alongside death. He likes to think of killing and the act of taking someone else’s life as something that he only has to do in a situation where it’s dire. In another instance, he wouldn’t let someone go unpunished, but they might leave with a finger missing or perhaps a few broken ribs.

But today – today feels more personal. There’s something about this man that feels like it really was his own knife that was used to scandal hundreds of thousands of pounds straight from his own pocket and into his own, selfish habits. So he’s taken the reigns. He has four men with him, still, standing and waiting, _watching_ – almost like they’re daring this weasel of a thief to try something so they can each get a bullet into him.

“Tut,” He says softly. There’s a drop of blood on the pristine white of his suit sleeve, folded just an inch over the black suit coat. He can’t be bothered to care, though, not in that moment. Not when there’s sure to be _much_ more.

His voice is the only sound in the room other than a gentle hum from the fluorescent lighting overhead. “I really thought I’d at least get my money back before I had to kill you.” He throws in a little pout for emphasis, then grabs the man’s chin, twists his head up and over to force him to look at him. It’s not enough to snap his neck – just enough perhaps to give a little sore tinge if he’s lucky enough to be awake in the morning.

“You can – you can!” The man cries, and Harry grins again. He didn’t ask him to speak, but he’s going to allow it this time. He looks like he’s on the edge of tears, and if he can reduce a grown men to tears, well, who is he to not allow him to speak? “I – I just need a little more time. That’s all!”

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it, Troy?” Harry articulates each syllable so his little toy knows he’s not playing around. Not even slightly. “We’ve already given you the time you asked for. You said three months. What day is it today, Liam?”

“July sixth, sir.”

Harry takes his hand away from Troy’s neck, then claps his palms together, the dryness of them making the sound reverberate through the room. “July sixth.” He says with an airy laugh. “You said three months on May sixth. So why would I give you _more_ time?”

“I –“ He pauses, chokes a little, and finally a tear falls from his left eye. It’s only one, though, so Harry isn’t sure he’s willing to show any more mercy just yet. He can’t be known as an easy pull – can’t let himself be known as someone who’s easy to swindle into showing mercy. He’d only end up losing his fearsome reputation that way. “I have collateral – I could give you something to hold on to until I get your money.”

“Why would I do that, when I could just kill you now?” Harry loves to play devil’s advocate, loves to make his people explain exactly what they’re doing and why they want what they want, especially when he’s cross with them.

“Because – because I know you want the money I’ve taken from you. I know it’s not – I know you don’t need it, but it’s the principal, yeah? Please, Harry, we used to be close.” Harry laughs, and he hears another laugh from behind him. Probably Liam. Liam’s good hearted, the one that took Troy’s place as his second in command when he decided to become a little thief.

“You’re right. We were close, once, until you decided you wanted to abuse your power and stab me in the back, huh, princess?” Another pause, Troy looks more panicked than he’d been a few moments before, and it really shouldn’t amuse Harry as much as it does, but it really is funny. He’s already decided he’s going to take the collateral, that he isn’t going to kill him – for today at least – but it’s still in good fun. “Sell me, then. What’s your collateral, how much more time to do you expect me to give you, and what am I going to get out of it?”

“I have – I have a son. He lives with his mother now – but I can bring him to you. He’s yours, until I give you your money. Plus extra. I’ll give you twenty thousand pounds extra, please, just one more month.”

“You have three weeks.” Harry says with a grin. Troy’s breath hitches. He knows he’s not really being entirely fair, but he’s never run his little operation on fair. Fair isn’t for powerful men with a lot of money and a lot of people who want that money. His sense of _fair_ is for the people who’ve never given him a reason not to be. “Bring me the boy tonight. We won’t come after you this time, should you be missing in three weeks. We’ll just have to take off one of your boy’s fingers for each day you decide not to show up.”

He walks behind the chair and snaps his fingers, then a knife is placed in his hand. He cuts the ropes quickly, purposely letting the blade cut a centimeter into Troy’s skin. It’s just barely enough to make the blood rush to the surface, but he hopes the warning stands. After Liam had beat him up nice and pliant just a few minutes earlier, he was almost certain that the warning came across loud and clear. “I’ll see you on July twenty-seventh at noon. Not a minute later.” Then he kicks the chair forwards and lets his once-upon-a-time second man fall to the floor with a _thud._

 

**  
**

**July 7 th, 2017**

The following day was quiet. Sometimes there were days that followed a heavy event that would be quiet and solemn, and Harry understood. He understood that his men needed time to process and handle things in their own ways, so he never pushed anything important on the day after a traitor killing or negotiation like he’d done the day before.

Three of them were sat at the kitchen table playing a hand of cards, and he sat at one of the empty chairs and watched for a moment. “Any word from Troy?” He asked and watched as the man – Kieth – sitting beside him placed an Ace down before looking over to him.

“He said he’ll be in ‘round eight tonight with the boy. He had to drive all the way up to Donny to fetch ‘im, so it’s a few hours each way.” Harry nods a few times, then glances out the window. The atmosphere isn’t as heavy as he’d worried it would be, and he knows it’s because there hadn’t been a death. Even if they were all considered criminals, even if they were all considered cold blooded and dirty, each of them had to take their time to cope.

“All right.” But he couldn’t always let everyone lounge around for the entire day. There’d been a few times where he’d let it happen, after especially hard torture scenes where he had to get information from someone or mass raids where bodies dropped to the floor in the counts of dozens, but that was usually under the instance that he had to take the day to cope for himself, too. Today was not one of those days. “Who’s out on the street today?”

“Liam’s out with ‘bout eight others. Said they had some deals to do worth sommat around forty-k. Marzy and I are going out tonight to meet up with a group from east-side worth three-k. I think six others are out just scouting, and Niall is on the bar scene, party selling.” Kieth was in charge of making sure he knew where everyone was at all times, and Harry appreciated him. He nodded and stood, took in the scene of the kitchen around him. It was just passed noon now, after Harry had gone about his usual morning routines, and he was happy to know that – despite the heavy quiet – his people could understand that they still had a job to do.

When Liam returned with his little squad, Harry collected the money, gave the boys their cut, and took the rest to the safe. He was a firm believer in paying his men out in cash, not drugs. He knew too many bosses who paid their boys out in glass instead of cash – and they always wound up in the cell blocks. The boys got careless when they were high – and Harry ran a strict word of keeping off the stuff when they were on his time. At night or on the days he didn’t intend for them to be on his clock, he didn’t control them.

But there were some things he just didn’t allow.

 

It’s dinner before he can really realize that the day’s almost done. He and his boys are spread out in the sitting room, some talking, some playing on their phones, some watching the telly that’s playing in the back, but he enjoys these times. Not everyone is there, no one is _expected_ to be there, but he appreciates the ones that show up. He won’t admit it, but seeing a body count leaves him feeling a bit more secure at the end of the day. Knowing whose still around after each day – it plants a little relief in his constantly chaotic head.

After he eats, he slips away silently and sits in his office.

There’s a record spinning on the player a few feet away from Harry’s desk. He has his feet propped up and his eyes closed, despite the fact that he’s not sleeping. He’s just winding down, relaxing for a moment as the soft sounds of violins fills the space of his office and the bright full-moon light shines in through his skylight.

“Harry.” Liam’s voice says from the doorway, about an hour after he’d started his little alone-time. His door had been closed, meaning he didn’t want to be bothered, but when he looks up and sees that his arms are crossed tight like there’s something he’s been worried about, he lets that irritation subside. He doesn’t answer, just swivels his chair so he’s facing his second, and that is enough to prompt him to speak again. “Troy brought his son. What do you want us to do with him?”

“Is he awake?”

“No.” A pause. Sometimes Harry can’t help but wish he hadn’t told everyone not to expand on a topic without being asked, because it gets rather annoying having to ask every time he wants to know something about a topic. But then there are the times where he really could care less, just wants to know his answer and let it be done. So, he thinks that the positives outweigh the negatives. He swirls his hand in a semi-circle in front of him, watches the shadow it casts against the wall from the soft glow of his lamp. “Troy drugged him up, gave him a few Valium. Said he’d probably be out until morning.” Harry hums and nods.

“Put him in my room for now, right hand cuffed up to my headboard. Make sure he’s comfortable, has a pillow and a bottle of water for when he wakes up.” Liam nods, but he’s still waiting for his dismissal. “You can go.” Then he’s gone, slips out the door and closes it just as silently as he’d opened it. Something about Liam draws him to really like him, to enjoy his company and trust that he’s a good lad that won’t betray him.

Instincts are something he’s really learned to trust. Over the years, he’s relied on them several times to either make or break a certain life or death situation and they’ve never once let him down, so he thinks that if he feels that Liam is good and won’t let him down, he has no reason to not trust that. Something about Troy had nagged at him at first, said that he wasn’t going to be the man he wanted at his side, but he’d ignored it. He’d ignored it just because the man had been somewhat close to his own father – as his own second – and something like an uncle to him. But when the power dynamic shifted and Harry became Troy’s first, instead of the snot nose little kid he could teach to cheat at poker, something between them shifted.

It had left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth, but he’d ignored it, simply out of tradition.

Liam, though, didn’t leave him with any kind of odd feeling. Instead, he made him feel secure that everything would go right – or that he’d try his best to ensure that everything would.

Harry lets out a sigh, leans back in his chair and stares at the painting hanging on his wall. His office is a strange place – a warm little nook he’d created for himself to escape the harsh realities that came from doing all of the evil he did on a daily basis. The ever-burning line up of nature or bakery scented candles he had lined up for himself along with the soft glow of lighting that was never harsh enough to make him feel the same pressure to be threatening as always helped him calm down, helped him clear his head and prepare himself for the day that would follow.

It was his safe space. Perhaps it was a strange thing for a wanted criminal to desire, to have a soft and comfortable place he could escape to with just a closing of a door, but he needed it.

His father had never needed anything like this, never needed to escape, but it had made him hard. The years of the constant cruelty and the never ending rhythm of death and structure and punishment made him hard as a person and a father. Eventually, it made him harden up as a leader, made him lose his flow and his cunning ability to get out of anything and everything that was necessary. He’d been shot during a raid just three years earlier when Harry was only nineteen and was still learning how to properly wield a knife with the intent to kill.

He didn’t want that same fate – refused to allow himself to succumb to the same tragic end that so many weak mob bosses had in the past – so he let himself enjoy these moments of weakness. Let himself indulge in the innocence for just a few hours at the end of every night when he wasn’t _boss_ or _sir._ He was just Harry.

 

Three hours later, when the strong scent of vanilla was attached to his skin in the best ways, he blew out the candle and slipped out of the office, tightly locking each of the four locks on his way out. Maybe some would call him a bit paranoid, to be so sure that no one would enter, but the very last place he wanted anyone was his safe space. He refused to let anyone in there when they weren’t supposed to be, even if there was nothing of value in there to steal. It wasn’t that he was worried that someone would steal something – he trusted each and every one of his men with his life – but it was more that it was private. One of the perks of being in charge was that he was allowed his spaces – two of them – where no one was allowed in except him.

With a final stroll around the inside of the building, he made sure each of his men were out of the main areas and tucked away where they were supposed to be before he went down the hallway to his own bedroom. It was across the west wing of the house, separated from everything except his second’s and his third’s rooms, both of which were also in the west wing, and it was enough. It was good to have that distance, another ritualistic and slightly symbolic aspect of being able to separate _Boss_ from _Harry._

He allowed a few of his men to live alongside him – but only the ones he trusted dearly. His house stood tall in the corner of Northern London, and even with all of his money, it only had six bedrooms. He took the master, on the farthest of the southward wing of the house, then Niall and Liam were in the two other rooms at that end of the home – then on the other end were the other three. He currently had Zayn and Keith staying in those rooms. They didn’t stay too long, usually, since he did make them pay rent, but it was a place to stay if they lost a lease or anything were to happen. The last room had been his as a child – and it held a place far too dear to his heart to really rent out to anyone who just came along. He’d rented it out twice in the last few years, but it was always to someone he trusted very dearly.

When he found that the house was empty of anyone who wasn’t meant to be there, he returned to his side of the house to settle in for bed.

But, as the door came closer, he heard several smacking and banging sounds that – well – were concerning.

Liam’s door was wide open, but he was passed out on top of the duvet of his bed and snoring softly. Harry sighed with a fondness and then closed the door and continued down the hall. With even steps and a concerned expression, he opened his bedroom door to find a man – a _fully grown man –_ attached to his bedpost, digging through his drawers and throwing things around as he shouted. “What the _fuck!”_ The boy screamed as soon as Harry came in through the door, and then a shoe smacked him right in the face.

Harry wasn’t one to quickly anger. He held his irritation tightly until it was all ready to come out all at once – and the person on the other side usually regretted it as soon as they realized they’d pushed him to that point. But he had to remind himself that this boy – this _man_ – had done nothing wrong, that his father was the guilty one, not him. So he held his temper.

“If you stopped throwing my things, perhaps I could explain a few things to you. I’m sure you have… questions.” A box of condoms from the drawer beside his bed smacked him in the chest, and he just sighed. He crossed his arms and waited, watched as this kid – he’d call him a child if he continued to act like one - grabbed everything in his reach and tossed everything at him and around until he went to reach for the pillows. “You’re sleeping there tonight, and if you toss those away, you’re sleeping without them. I’m being kind enough to give you that, so I suggest you respect it.” A glance into the drawer proved that he’d run out of things to throw, and that – that actually _amused_ Harry.

A huff came from the chained up boy, and Harry couldn’t help the grin. He went to his closet, unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it into the bin of clothing that needed to be washed. “Wait –“ Came the same voice from before, lighter and airier and with an unmistakable hint of fear that actually made Harry’s chest twinge with guilt. “Please – please don’t rape me. I’m – I –“ Then there were sniffles, and Harry turned to face him.

“I’m sorry if I gave you that – impression.” He says softly, then pulls on a t-shirt. “This is my bedroom, I’m just changing.” The man sniffles again, then nods. “Are you going to calm down now and let me explain a few things? I’m not going to hurt you or touch you, that I can promise.”

“Who are you?”

“Harry Styles.” He says softly and watches as the boy’s eyes widen.

“Oh – _god.”_ The boy’s breathing sounds labored, like he’s about to panic, so Harry pulls up a chair over to the boy and helps him up to sit on it.

“Sit, sit up straight and take slow, deep breaths. If you keep breathing like that you’ll set off a worse panic.” The boy follows his instructions, takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. Harry waits until it sounds like it’s evened out, then he speaks again. “I assume that means you know who I am. But like I said, I don’t plan to hurt you.”

“Why am I here, then?”

“Your father owes me a significant amount of money. He chose to give me you, to bet your life on his ability to give me my money rather than his own.”

“What?” The boy asks, and his panic seems to fade into anger. “My – my _father?_ I haven’t seen him in over fifteen _years!”_ He practically screams and Harry takes that moment to think about how much of a headache he’ll probably have for the next three weeks. But at the same time, he takes that information and stores it for a later time. Perhaps Troy sent Louis off to them as false collateral, with the intent to skip town and leave them with someone he didn’t really ever care about.

“I’m going to need you to calm down.” Harry says softly. “I understand that you’re angry, but screaming about it will do nothing to solve it.” Another pause. “I’m going to leave you to sleep now. I’ll be back to fetch you in the morning. You’re welcome to ask more questions then.” Harry moves to the door when he doesn’t get a response, turns the handle and is half way out when he hears the boy speak again.

“Wait.” He says and it’s so soft that Harry probably could have missed it if he’d tried. But he turns anyway, perhaps as an attempt to build up some trust, and quirks an eyebrow. “Can you – can you put this thing on my other hand? I’m left handed and I can’t sleep without… without like, my left hand under my head.” Harry isn’t sure why that’s endearing or why he chooses to indulge such a simple, unnecessary request, but he does.

“Sure.” He says and undoes the cuff around the boy’s left hand and refastens it around his right. He locks it again and places the key into his pocket. “Oh, can I know your name?” The boy squints, narrows his eyes and seems to debate if he should give it to him or not in his head, before he makes his decision.

“Louis.”

“Sleep well, Louis.” Harry says with a small nod and closes the door behind him, locks three locks on that door as well and makes his way to Niall’s bedroom. The blond boy is passed out in his bed, too, with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, and Harry curls up on the couch. Tomorrow he’ll find somewhere to put Louis, but for now, he lets sleep take over.

 

**  
**

**July 8 th, 2017 **

Harry opens his eyes and sees Niall shuffling around, nearly tiptoeing around so he doesn’t wake him. He blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the bright light streaming in through the fully opened window with the blinds pulled up and the curtains tied up the sides. It’s bright and so, entirely _Niall_ that Harry can’t help the soft, tired sigh that escapes his lips.

“Morning, Boss.” Niall says softly and Harry sits up, cracks his neck and twists himself so that his back pops, too.

“Morning.” He says, voice deep and throaty from sleep. His entire body is sore, really, from the uncomfortable way he’d forced himself to curl up on the too-small sofa and the uncomfortable way his neck had managed to bend sometime during the night, but he doesn’t complain. It was his own choice to sleep on the couch instead of forcing Louis to sleep on the floor while he could have slept on his own bed, but he didn’t. It was all a leap of faith to attempt and gain some kind of trust from the blue-eyed boy, so he hopes it’s worth it.

“Everything all right?” His third asks and Harry gives him a tired smile. He knows that he’s trying to ask why the hell Harry was on his couch, but he didn’t want to ask directly, didn’t want to be too blunt and too bold and ruin the chance he’d gotten at some kind of power with his recent promotion to third.

“Yeah. The kid Troy brought in had my bed for last night. Liam’s couch was piled up with shit, so, thanks for being clean.” He says and Niall laughs just a little. “He’s – this kid, though, he’s literally an adult. I don’t know why, but when Troy had mentioned collateral, my head came up with like, a teenager or something. Something that made fucking sense as a collateral, not a grown man. But, whatever.” Harry groans. He’s not sure why he’s saying all of this, why he’s telling all of this to Niall who probably doesn’t know what to say or how to respond.

“What… what are we going to do with him, then?” He asks, voice small like he’s uncertain if he’s crossed over into territory that isn’t his to venture into.

“He’ll stay with us for the next three weeks, as planned, but the plans will just have to change a bit, shift accordingly to keep him in line as an adult instead of a kid.” Niall nods. “I’m going to go get dressed. It’s your day for the streets again, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Half your quota for the day and let everyone else know to do the same. I want everyone on the floor for a meet at three sharp.”

“Yes, boss.” Niall says and Harry takes that moment to leave.

Niall’s room always had a glow of happiness to it. He’d taken Niall in when the blond boy was eighteen and too high on anything he could get his hands on to really know what he was doing half the time. He’d met too many people like that in his time of trafficking drugs as a career. Drugs were a powerful force and they could destroy any life that they got their hands on, but he didn’t let himself think about that too often. He didn’t let himself think about how a life like Niall’s could be ruined at his hand and he didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he empowered people to destroy their bodies and their minds.

When Niall had found Harry, he’d tried to mug him for the few pounds he had in his pocket at the time and, well, Harry knew he couldn’t just kill him. Something about the panic and the urgency in his eyes had stopped him from doing it.

It was when he was in the first year of being in charge – he’d sat down with the kid and talked to him and heard his story and heard his side and offered him a place with him – the only condition being that he didn’t get high on his time. He’d agreed quicker than Harry had anticipated, and then within a year he was getting clean. Every second that he’d watched his friend get clean, he’d been there for him. Supported him, helped him fund the hospital visits, helped him with anything that he could do as an outsider, and it worked. Two years later, now, Niall was clean and as far as Harry knew, he hadn’t touched even a blunt in over a year.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Niall that made him happy, maybe it was the underlying fondness he had for his friend for improving his own health and getting clean. Or maybe it was just that positive feeling that he gave to every person around him. He wasn’t sure. But he did trust Niall with almost everything he had in him. If Liam wasn’t just a bit better with a gun and a few seconds faster in his reaction times, Niall would certainly be his second instead of his third.

He sighed softly and flicked the lights of the hallway on, watched as they flickered to life with a gentle buzz that could only be heard through the thick silence of the house. He was often the first one awake, and the silence always got to his head. So when he heard a voice behind him, he jumped and startled.

“Morning.” Liam said and Harry took a short breath to calm himself down and made sure that it didn’t appear that he’d been startled. His second was sweaty, dressed in his workout clothes, and likely just came back from his strange early morning runs that Harry never had understood. “Did you sleep in Niall’s last night?”

“Yeah. The kid – Louis – he panicked quite a bit last night. I didn’t really want to deal with it.” Liam nodded his understanding. There was a silent agreement in their house when it came to hostage situations. There’d only been three in the three years that Harry had been in charge, but each and every time, they treated the innocent as exactly that: innocent. No one was to bring any harm to an innocent person unless it was completely necessary. Like, in this instance, if Troy decided not to bring him his money… Louis would be the one who suffered for it.

“I can clean up if you want mine… ever. Like. I know my sofa’s a bit bigger. Do you want me to?”

“I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks, Li. Oh, and like I told Niall, half your rounds for today. I want everyone back here for a meet at three.” Liam nodded again and they shared a smile before Harry left and went into his own room.

He was fond of all of his people. Each and every one of them held a place in his heart of respect and trust that could never be surpassed by anyone else, and he assumed that came from trusting his life with each of them each time they went out together. No matter how cruel he could be at times, it would fade in the nights when all of them were in a calmer place. He liked those times, he liked when the walls could come down and everything felt less tense.

He quietly undid each of the locks adorning his bedroom door and turned the doorknob and walked inside quietly. Louis was spread out on his bed, right arm awkwardly turned in a way that accommodated for the handcuff that his body obviously wasn’t used to having there, but he was fast asleep and that made Harry’s guilt lessen just a bit. If nothing else, he was glad that he’d gotten some sleep, because he’d watched one person who they had to keep here stay awake until she hallucinated with the fear that one of them were going to hurt her while she slept. Harry had let her, saying it was her choice, but it was terrible to watch.

The boy twitched a little when Harry closed the door behind him, but he still didn’t wake, and Harry took that as enough freedom to sit at his desk and go through his morning routines of who was going to be where and when and making sure everyone was aware to be back at three. He sat at his desk, then, and flicked his lamp on.

It was Kieth’s job to make sure he remembered where everyone was – but it wasn’t often that he actually needed him. He was almost always on top of everything, and even if it was a lot to handle when he didn’t really have to, he preferred to be on top. Being on top made it easier to be in charge.

With a soft sigh, he unlocked his top desk drawer and pulled out his notebook with all of the information on all of his people as well as his mass-text phone – one of three of his cellphones – and wrote down everything he needed to do for the day. It was a short list, since he really didn’t have anything planned like most days, but there were always a few simple things that called for his attention that he would need to attend to.

He hated making lists. For someone who liked everything to be perfect and everything to be exactly how he wanted it exactly when he wanted it, there was something mundane and far too repetitive for Harry’s tastes about making lists. The soft glow of his lamp in the darkened-by-blinds room casted a soft yellow glow on the white of the paper, and Harry let himself focus on it a moment. He normally would open his blinds and let the natural light shine in and allow himself to wake up in that natural kind of way, but it was one of those off days where he couldn’t – just because Louis was there.

Perhaps it was a form of procrastination to let the boy sleep, but he really just didn’t want to deal with him just yet. There were still things thrown about the floor on his room from his first temper tantrum, so he didn’t want to deal with another one if there was going to be one.

When the idea of making a list got too overwhelming for him, as it did most days, he stood once again and slipped out of his room – only locking one lock this time – and went to the kitchen. It was empty, which was typical, but he made up a kettle of tea anyway and set it on the stove top to boil.

He pulled out his personal cellphone while he waited, sighing when he saw the battery was barely at thirty percent since he hadn’t charged it the previous night, and pulled up a word game that he played when he needed to _not_ think. He was startled in the middle of spelling _spectacular_ on a scrabble board with the whistle from the kettle.

He poured out two cups and took a dish of milk and three sugar cubes up, just in case. He hoped it could stand as a sort of peace offering for his little stowaway. If nothing else, it would just get cold and he’d heat it up for himself later. He wasn’t worried about it.

When he was back in his room, he set the tray on his desk and moved to the bed. “Louis.” He said softly, getting a small twitch out of his body, but he didn’t wake. “Louis.” He said a little louder, and that made him wake up. He jumped, his entire body twisting and falling off the bed until he was caught by his arm, twisted in a painful-looking angle, where he was attached to the headboard.

“No, no, no.” He heard from the other man’s mouth, and it sounded like crying. Harry couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see anything other than the back of his head, really, but he could understand that he probably needed a moment to process everything once again. He could imagine waking up disoriented and unsure and hoping that it was all a dream the next day. He could only imagine the despair that would come with that feeling, though, because he’d never felt it. He never would, either, but he could sympathize. It was one of the key skills he had that got him to the top: his ability to sympathize and empathize with what others were feeling and manipulate his own behavior to match what he needed to happen.

For now, he wanted Louis to feel better – or at least as good as he could in a situation like this. “Would you like me to undo that for you?” He asked, voice soft and low. He didn’t want to startle him further; he felt somewhat like he was approaching and tending to a wounded animal.

“Don’t talk to me.” Was the response he got and Harry sighed.

“I’ll give you that, for now.” He said. “Feel free to take some time to think, I’ll be back in an hour or two to check on you.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he expected to hear something from him again like he had the previous night, but even when the door was closed behind him and the locks were tightened, he didn’t hear anything.

It was all right, though. He would let Louis behave like that for a few days, if need be, before he started enforcing the fact that he didn’t tolerate disrespect. He could understand trauma, and he could understand how people dealt with those traumas sometimes. He didn’t like to consider himself entirely cruel.

 

It was a little more than two hours later when he found his way back into his bedroom. Louis was sat criss-cross on his bed with his back leaning against the headboard, and he was just staring off into the distance. He had tear tracks on his face, like he’d been crying for a long time, but Harry didn’t focus on that. Instead, he walked over to the window and pulled the blinds up and tied the curtains back so the room filled with sunlight. “Are you ready to speak to me yet?”

“Are you going to let me go?” Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Because if not, I’m not interested in speaking to you.” Harry just shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to the kitchen to get something to eat and show you around a bit, so just let me know.” As if right on cue, Louis’ stomach growled loudly and Harry gave him an expectant look. He wasn’t sure what there was to expect from him, because he’d already been told he wasn’t going to get spoken to, so he wasn’t going to push it. There was only so much he could do as an outside influence without harming him to get hi to speak, so he wasn’t going to push.

“Fine.” Louis mumbled, quietly. “Fine,” A little louder this time, “I’ll speak to you.” Harry nodded and took the key from his pocket and undid the cuff once again and let him free. There was a strong red mark surrounding his little wrist that looked like the metal had cut into the skin in a few different places, but it was just another thing that Harry wasn’t going to let himself feel bad about.

“I am sorry about having to restrain you like that. We put you in here last night just because we didn’t expect you to wake up until morning, or at least that’s what your father said. You’ll have your own room every other night.” Louis was chewing on his lip, then, and looking around. “Anything else you want to ask me, feel free. My promise does still stand that I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t give me a reason to. So.”

“You know my father isn’t coming back, right?” Louis asks with a scorn in his voice that Harry isn’t even sure _he_ could match. It was almost impressive, actually. “He gave you me for that exact reason. He skipped out on my family and I when I was a baby and never even turned back. His time limit or whatever is going to expire and you’re going to have to kill me and he’s still never going to come back.” Harry let himself think about that for a moment. He really hadn’t known that – he’d imagined that Troy was smart enough to be able to weasel himself out of any kind of obligation to return, but he’d never imagined that he could sacrifice his own flesh and blood for his own arse.

“Well,” He started, “I’ll take your word for it. If Troy doesn’t return, we won’t kill you. He’ll just have to think you’re dead. So, I will need your cooperation for that.” Louis squinted, his eyes narrowing just enough to show his insecurity with the idea. Harry wasn’t even sure what he was saying at this point, but now that he thought about what Louis was saying, it made sense. It made perfect sense that Troy would give over a son who wasn’t really a son to him.

“My cooperation.” Louis repeated.

“We’ll cross that bridge when – or _if –_ we have to.” Harry said and Louis just nodded. He could see the little anxious twitches that the boy was developing, like cracking his knuckles and peeling the skin off of his lips with his teeth and pinching the hem of his shirt, but he wasn’t going to comment on those. It was going to take time for Louis to learn that he was safe here, so he wasn’t going to force that, either. If he chose to never feel safe, that was his choice.

“So what happens when I get to leave?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know I won’t just tell on all of you? Snitch you all out to the police and collect the million pound reward on your head?”

“Do you want the truth, or the optimistic approach?”

“Both.” Louis said with a shrug.

“The optimistic approach is that you’ll leave us here, and you’ll chose to move far, far away and live a happy little life somewhere where you won’t have to think about us anymore. We’ll cover the moving funds, if need be. We could just trust that you’d leave and never tell a soul what happened out of the appreciation that we didn’t kill you.” Louis shrugged. “The truthful approach is that we will have ears and eyes on you often. For a long, long while. Should we find you anywhere near the police, you’ll be dead before you have the chance to even say any of our names.” Harry watches as his adams apple moves with a swallow. It seems that the reality has set in for the boy at this point, and for that Harry is somewhat grateful. So isn’t sure why it makes him so uncomfortable to deal with things like that. He sees death almost every day and causes it half as many times, but he can’t handle causing someone who doesn’t deserve it trauma.

Perhaps that’s his sense of a goodness complex. He tries to only do what he feels necessary to people who he feels deserve it. He’s never hurt a single person who didn’t cross him or someone he loved in some way or another.

“You’ve got this very thought out, then.” His voice is higher, like he’s afraid. It’s a tone that would normally please Harry, but in that moment it just makes him feel bad. There are certain times when fear feels appropriate, and other times fear escalates a situation beyond what he can handle. Sometimes when he causes fear that isn’t necessary and fear that makes a room cold to be in, he can’t handle it. Those are the moments when he feels the need to walk away and abandon what he’s doing to find some kind of relief.

“I do want you to know, though, that our intention isn’t to make you miserable. You’re not here because _you’ve_ done anything wrong. So we have no reason to harm you or make you miserable. The only rule you really have to follow is that you can’t leave without someone with you, just because we have to make sure you’ll return at the end of the day.”  It’s true. He won’t stop Louis from leaving as long as he’s with Liam or himself, but he doesn’t need to know that his options are limited to just the two of them to leave with. He thinks – for the moment – that he needs to focus on the good. If he focuses on the good, perhaps some kind of trust can build more quickly.

“Wait, so you’re saying I can like, leave and stuff?”

“Accompanied. And approved by me. Yes.” Louis gives him a look that feels like a challenge, and Harry just smiles. He isn’t entirely sure where the boundary is drawn for any kind of playfulness with this boy yet – since he could be and very likely is still a bit unstable – but Harry’s always been one to push a few harmless limits. “For now though, do you want a change of clothes before we go out to the kitchen?”

“Yeah, please.” Harry nods and walks back to his closet. He pulls out a pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a velvet track suit that he thinks are closer to Louis’ size than anything else in his closet, and then hands it off to him.

 

It’s a while later when Louis is sitting at the kitchen table and pushing the food around on his plate, the mug of tea beside him left untouched, as Harry looks a few things up on his laptop. The kitchen is – it’s really the only place in this house that really makes it feel like a _home._ It is a home – it houses and maintains the safety of his sleep-ins – but there’s always a feeling of dread that comes from the purpose of it being there that seems to dampen the atmosphere of every other room. The kitchen is the only place Harry can always go to escape that.

He thinks it has something to do with the trust that comes with sharing a meal with his friends. He’s always considered mealtimes to be important and something that he wants to share with people who he intends to build and maintain trust with, so he takes pride in the fact that he can share that with people who feel like a family to him, despite what they do every day.

Louis tugs at the sleeves of the jacket and continues to pretend like he’s still interested in the meal that’s been set in front of him. It’s another thing he’s decided he doesn’t want to comment on, just because he wants to let Louis cope in whatever way he feels necessary, and if that means he can’t eat very much, well, it’s not Harry’s job to worry about that. But when he glances up, he can see that Louis is staring with heavy intent right at the doorway, likely dissecting in his mind a way to get out.

He still doesn’t say anything, instead, he just continues what he’s doing. His paranoia of being broken into has always been a source of fond-teasing from his men when they have to use three different keys to get inside, but it’s also a source of safety. Nothing gets in _or_ out, unless he wants it to.

So he waits. He waits to see if Louis is going to try and run off while he’s sitting right there – as a form of trust, perhaps – and to see if he needs to have him on a night-watch, too. He’d hoped that by the second day he wouldn’t need to chain the boy up nor have to watch him, but this is the test. Whatever happens for the next hour or so will decide what happens for the next week with his privacy.

“Um,” Louis says softly and Harry glances up. “Where’s your loo?” It takes a lot of self-restraint to hold the sigh in, just because it’s such an _obvious_ line to use if he was going to try and escape, but he doesn’t want to clue Louis into the fact that he knows. If nothing else, out of having such an intense level of power within his life, he’s learned how to read people and how to assume their intentions quite well. He will always trust his instincts.

“Down the hall, third door to your left.” He says and watches as Louis stands and walks down the hallway. Harry starts counting the seconds. His mind is set on ninety-five. Ninety-five seconds of peace before an attempt to escape is made and he has to intervene and things won’t be as pretty as they could have been. He stares at his watch as he waits.

He locks his computer and places it back in it’s case before sliding it into it’s rightful place on the bookshelf in the kitchen, then looks at his watch again. The second hand ticks over, just past the twelve, and if Harry listens hard enough he can hear each of the ticking sounds over the low swishing sound coming from their dishwasher. The heart beat of the house, it’s been called. His watch that runs everything and makes sure people are where they need to be exactly when they need to be.

Twenty-three seconds in, and nothing just yet.

He takes the tea kettle and pours out the old, over-boiled water and fills it up again with water from the tap. It’s still silent, the quietness takes over the room, and then he shuts the water off and places the kettle back over the stove.

Eighty-nine seconds and he takes a deep breath as he waits. And then – right on cue at ninety two seconds – there’s a gentle crashing sound. He shakes his head and pulls his hair up into a bun, effectively separating _Boss_ from _Harry._ It’s another thing he’s always done. When he has to slip out of the mindset of being him and back into the mode of being in charge and letting that cruel part of himself come back to the front of his mind, he has to have some kind of physical separation. Perhaps it helps him alleviate the guilt and disguises the demons when he looks in the mirror, but it’s just something he’s always done. It’s the exact reason he could never cut his hair.

He walks down the hall, gentle steps making the heels of his boots click against the wooden floorboards. Louis _is_ in the loo – he can hear rustling and movement and whispered cursewords – so at least he was truthful, despite the fact that he’s sure he’s trying to escape. When he hears another crash and a whispered, “ _Shit”_ he presses a key into the door and opens it.

It opens silently, one of Harry’s biggest pet peeves always having been creaky doors, and stares at the boy in front of him. He’s managed to balance himself on top of the sink and a laundry hamper as he leans four feet across and plays with the lock on the window with a bobby-pin. He doesn’t think Louis is aware he’s standing there, watching him, but he can’t help it. He can’t help but lean back against the doorframe and just watch as his hands shake and he frantically presses the pin into a lock.

“Enjoying the view?” He asks after a few more seconds of watching and Louis stumbles and falls, lands on his ass against the tiled ground with a _crash_ and a loud, pained cry. Harry doesn’t feel bad.

“I’m –“ He holds a hand up, effectively silencing the boy. His eyes are filling with tears – but they look like angry tears. His face is twisted into an expression of pure hatred, and Harry is almost impressed.

“I don’t want to hear it.” He says, his quiet, gentle voice replaced with his boss-like booming voice that fills a room and bounces off of walls and keeps his men in line. “I’m going to stand here and watch you clean up this mess you’ve made, then I’m going to take you back to the room you’re being so kindly given for the next three weeks. The only change now is that you’ll be getting a different one than the first – you’re getting the basement spare with the barred windows.” A tear falls down his face, finally, but the look of hatred still doesn’t falter. He doesn’t move, either, and Harry quirks an eyebrow. “I said, _clean.”_

“You don’t scare me.” Harry is surprised. For someone who’d been crying just a few hours before and panicking, well, he’s surprised at the sudden, complete turn around. He runs through the stages of grief in his head once again and settles on the fact that Louis is probably settled on _anger_ now – but he’s a bit tired of letting these slip ups slide. It doesn’t seem to be building trust and it certainly doesn’t seem to be making things better. But, he still wants to humor himself. So he can’t help but respond.

“Why’s that?”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.” Harry grins.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you without reason, Louis. If you chose to give me reason, then I’m not breaking my promise, now am I?” He takes another step into the bathroom and watches as Louis flinches from his spot on the ground. “I understand that you’re going through a lot and this entire situation is a lot to process, but I promise you that I won’t tolerate disrespect. There are a lot of things I can tolerate from you, since I won’t hurt you without reason, but if you break the _one_ rule I’ve set for you, I won’t let it slide. I’m going to let you have this one free pass – this one time where I’m going to turn a blind eye and let you off easy, but if I or any of my men catch you so much as within five feet of a door you’re not allowed to touch, you won’t even see the sun for the next three weeks. Understood?” Louis sniffles, and he nods.

Once Harry’s done speaking, Louis stands and fixes all of the things he’d knocked over and puts everything back where he’d found it. Harry feels like that’s enough.

“Are you still going to lock me up?” He asks, and it’s normally the kind of question that would really, really get on Harry’s nerves. He’d said he was going to, so there’s no reason to question it, but he just sighs instead. Louis looks genuinely afraid – his lip is pouting and he almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears once again – and Harry isn’t sure if that’s what makes him decide to really show some kind of mercy, but he can’t help it.

“No.” He says, his gentle voice coming back. “I’m turning a blind eye now, remember?” Louis smiles, a gentle curve of his lips and Harry accepts that as all the _thank you_ he needs.

 

He and Louis are sat together on the living room couch when it’s only ten minutes until three. Louis is bouncing his leg and Harry can tell he’s nervous, but he doesn’t comment on it. He certainly doesn’t expect him to get comfortable this quickly, if he ever does get comfortable around him. He wouldn’t be able to hold it against him if he never did, just because he’s entirely aware that he’s not here because he wants to be.

He can imagine the mental torture something like that must be for a grown man, to be held away from the things he finds most important by decisions that are not his own. He feels bad – and it’s odd. He’s not sure he’s ever felt bad about a decision he’s made with his gang before. Everything he’s ever done has been important and necessary and it always felt like there was a good, solid reason behind it. Of course there was a good reason behind this – there was a massive reason behind him being here – but it just didn’t feel right. He felt like he was destroying a life that wasn’t his to destroy.

It was a terrible feeling, but he couldn’t let it get to him. It was just one of those moments when he had to refrain from showing his emotions properly and just let himself digest them and take his time feeling them when he was alone and could process them properly. If he didn’t, he’d probably end up doing something really stupid, like letting him go without getting his money.

Louis is _just_ collateral. He has to keep reminding himself of that because each time he forgets that simple truth, things get a little harder to process. “So,” He starts and Louis jumps, surprised by the sudden burst of speech in the room that had been conversation free for well over two hours. “I know I should have told you earlier, but, in about five minutes all of my people are going to be back. They want to meet you, of course, but you don’t have to meet all of them at once. I’m holding a meeting, so you will have to go on to your room when that part starts, but if you’re interested in meeting the people you’ll be living with and seeing a lot of in the next few weeks, you’re welcome to.”

“I think I’ll pass for today. Just. Yeah.” Harry nodded. He wasn’t going to force him – again, Louis is innocent and he refuses to punish him because of that – so he was just going to let him go. He’d introduce him to Niall and Liam later – the two important people he’d be dealing with. “Can we finish this movie when you’re finished, though?”

“Of course. Would you like me to come fetch you when it’s done? Or you can watch it in my room, I really don’t care.”

“Just fetch me when it’s done, please.”

“All right.” Harry nods and Louis stands and leaves. He can’t help but sigh, then, because he feels like he’s fucked something up somehow – like he’s created a bad omen between himself and Louis. Well – he understands that the initial hatred would be there and he certainly isn’t blind to Louis’ dislike of being here at all but he just wants things to be easy. That’s all he ever really wants.

But then he hears a shout – a _scared_ sounding shout – and he gets up and quickly runs to find the noise. When he finds Louis – there’s a gun pointed directly at his face and he’s pressed against a wall and his eyes are wide in fear. Zayn – the newest member of his group – is the one on the other side of the gun.

“What the _fuck?”_ He shouts, and Zayn stumbles back and drops his gun. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asks, and Zayn’s eyes are as wide as Louis’ were just a moment before. “You know better than to _ever_ raise a gun in this home unless you come across someone else armed and threatening. Does he look fucking _armed and threatening_ to you, Zayn? Are you that _stupid?”_ Zayn’s trembling, and he can see Louis still against the wall in shock.

“No – no. He doesn’t. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head.

“Give me the gun and we’ll discuss this after my talk today.” Zayn’s frown deepens and Harry can see the genuine regret in his features, but he still holds the gun by the barrel and twists it to hand it to Harry by the handle. He nods his ‘thank you’ and Zayn scrambles off to wherever he was headed when he first walked through the door.

Louis finally turns to Harry and he still looks just as terrified as he was moments ago, but then he speaks and Harry smiles. “I think I would like to meet everyone, then, um,” He clears his throat, “To avoid that happening, uh, again.”

“Of course.” Harry says and nods. “It wouldn’t – that would not happen again, just so you know, though. Zayn’s very new with us and he isn’t entirely aware of the rules and the way we work around here. So. Everyone else knows. Guns are not pulled out in the house unless needed.”

“Yeah… Um. That’s good.”

“Let’s go, then?”

“Yeah.”

 

Harry always feels conflicted when he has all of his people gathered in the same room. There’s twenty of them who are important – two of them who don’t live with him here – and it feels a bit suffocated. If he ever had to speak to _all_ of his people – including the ones who are just vaguely associated with his gang and are more his people’s people, there would be hundreds. He’s met all of them – briefly – so he knows who they are, but when he talks about meeting with his people, these are the people he’s speaking about.

So, with twenty-one of them here today with Louis, he doesn’t feel any need to delay. “As all of you were aware, Troy took a significant amount of money from me, from all of us, and left with it – under the impression he’d get away without being punished in some way.” They all respond with varying nods and hums of agreement. He has a thing for vocal and physical responses – he likes to know that people are listening to him, not just zoning out. “So, instead of killing him, he offered his son as collateral. This is him.” He motions to Louis who looks around, and he looks scared, still. Harry doesn’t comment on that. “His name is Louis, and you’re all to treat him with respect. As he knows, the only rule in place for him is that he cannot leave without myself or Liam being with him.”

Louis makes an indignant noise – something like a whine – but he still doesn’t address it. It doesn’t feel like something that urgently needs to be discussed. He goes around the circle and introduces Louis to everyone, not really bothering to spend a lot of time doing it since he knows good and well that he likely won’t remember most of their names within a few days.

“You should go.” He says after that and Louis just gets up – doesn’t make any effort to respond and just gets up and walks off.

Harry goes in to telling everyone what the plan with Troy and Louis is shortly after, explains that Troy is still going to die even if he returns with his money, and then he goes into discussing a few things about their profits and cuts and things that they usually talk about.

When he goes back to his room, he finds Louis curled up in his bed asleep, the same tear tracks that had been there the night before just as prominent. He still feels bad, but he doesn’t feel as terrible when he falls asleep with his head resting on his arms at his desk.

 

“Hey, wake up.” He hears a soft voice say and he blinks a few times to find Louis standing over him. “I _actually_ have to piss now. Like. No games or anything.” Harry quirks an eyebrow and rubs his eyes before he nods.

“Yeah. Alright.” So he stands and goes to his door and unlocks it – all three locks – and ignores Louis’ scoff.

“Three locks, really?” He was really too tired to play any games or to play along with any jokes for the moment, so he just shrugged. It shut Louis up pretty quickly and, for once, Harry was grateful that Louis wasn’t talking. He’d never been a fan of having to talk right after waking up – so he was just tired and not in the mood.

“Two minutes before I open the door. Kay?”

“So no time to wank, then?” Harry just shot him an unamused look and Louis just seemed to deflate a bit all over again. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel bad, because he did, he was just tired both mentally and physically. Something about not sleeping in his own bed left him feeling tired and sluggish, so going for two nights in a row made it worse. Whatever. He wasn’t one to complain. “You’re just – sorry. I’ll shut up, now.” Louis said softly and Harry checked the time on his watch as soon as the door was closed. It was 2:17am. He couldn’t help but sigh softly at that – because of _course_ Louis was the type to have to get up in the middle of the night and bother Harry.

He just wanted to sleep. By 2:18, he heard the water running and then the door opened and Louis came out without a word. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a wanker when I first wake up.”

“It’s okay.” They went to Harry’s room together once again, the silence surrounding them as Harry went back to his desk and packed his laptop away into his drawer. “You – obviously – can have your bed um, I don’t want to… intrude. Or whatever.”

“I’ve not yet set up a room for you just yet, so, it’s yours until tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just go to sleep, Louis. Like I said, you’re going to be treated like a guest here.”

“Um,” He could see the hesitancy there, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Instead, he watched as Louis crawled back into his bed and finally shut the lamp off. It was another night filled with little sleep and a crink in his neck, but it was just for one more night, so, he wasn’t going to complain.  

**July 9 th , 2017**

He ended up waking around four am to a phone call from Zayn. “’lo?” He asked, thoughts clouded with sleep and voice grungy and deep.

“Um, sir, I uh –“ He hears a gunshot in the background and he’s suddenly much more awake. There’s screaming and crying somewhere in the distance and he isn’t entirely sure what he wants to make of that, so he just quickly goes to his closet and grabs the first clean pair of trousers and a button-up, phone held to his ear as he walks out of his room with a suit jacket draped over his arm. He doesn’t leave the house underdressed, ever.

“Zayn? What’s going on?”

“I need you and Liam –“ The phone goes a bit distant for a moment and, “ _Hey! Bugger off!”_ He hears Zayn yell and then his voice is clear again, “I fucked up – I fucked up really bad and I don’t know how to fix it. Please.”

“Where?”

“Um – he said. He said Thirty ninth and West.” He’s not sure who _he_ is – and he knows Zayn wouldn’t either, so he doesn’t bother to ask. Zayn’s not new to the world of crime and all of this, but he is new to the completely different world of crime that Harry is surrounded by.

“We’ll see you in fifteen, all right?”

“Please hurry.” He hung the phone up and knocked on Liam’s door.

“Liam! We have to go out, come on, it’s important.” He heard shuffling from the other side of the door and was greeted when it opened by a tired looking Liam. He had sleep-tousled hair and his eyes looked like they were only half open, but that was his job as his second. Doing shit like this in the early hours of the morning was just what the two of them had to do.

Liam tossed on a suit jacket over what he assumed was just a white t-shirt and then a pair of trousers and they were in the car barely three minutes later.

 

The streets of London were never quiet. They buzzed with life even in the earliest hours of the morning and the latest hours of the night. Even when all the pubs and clubs had long since closed and the tubes stopped running, there was always a party or something happening that reminded him why he loved the city. It never slept – everything was always _go go go_ and it distracted him from the constant drag of his life. As long as he was distracted, going, doing something, the guilt couldn’t catch up to him. He couldn’t worry about it if he was worrying about something else.

Liam didn’t ask questions, which was one of the reasons Harry loved him so much as his second. He didn’t push boundaries that weren’t his to push and he didn’t question his commands. Perhaps he knew that would be the fastest way to get him killed, or maybe he just didn’t care. Harry didn’t know, but he really wasn’t in the mood to figure it out.

He drove down the streets, the whiz of a motorcycle somewhere on the motorway the only sound around them for the moment being. Liam looked on edge. His hand was gripping the handle on the passenger’s seat door so hard his knuckles were white and he was certain that he didn’t want Harry to know. But, if he knew anything about him, he knew that Harry picked up on moods and personality traits better than just about anyone else.

“He called me, H.” He finally let out. “Four times.” His voice sounds wrecked. Harry’s known for a few months that he and Zayn have a thing – and it ends at a _thing_ because neither of them are willing to call it anything else – but he knows just as well that they care deeply for each other. “Four times and I didn’t wake up.” He’s trembling and Harry really can’t tell if it’s fear or anger, but either way, he knows that such strong emotions will help them get him back.

“He’ll be okay. He didn’t sound too panicked when I picked up, he’s going to be fine.”

“I sure hope so.” Liam says and lets out a soft sigh. The drive goes by in silence after that – the roadway empty as Harry goes above the speed limit to make sure they get there as quickly as possible. It’s all going by in a bit of a blur, and when they come up to a building with a big, wire fence surrounding it, he’s not entirely sure what to make of it.

Liam takes a gun from his trousers and Harry takes his from his glove compartment, and then they’re together as they go inside.

Climbing the fence is the first thought that went through his head, and clearly Liam’s as well, but then they find a gate – clearly left open for them – and walk in as leisurely as they can.

It’s quiet, but the first thing they come across is Zayn sprawled out on the floor in a small, but significant puddle of his own blood. He can see the cold expression in Liam’s face – the fire burning behind his eyes.

“Styles.” A voice comes from across the hall. “And one of your goons, how appropriate.” It’s Nick Grimshaw, and he has a devilish little smirk on his face that Harry wants to destroy.

“I told you to stay the _fuck_ away from me and my men. Did you forget how to follow instructions? Perhaps another reminder?” He catches the slight twist of fear in Nick’s eyes – it’s so brief that he’s almost certain even Nick didn’t catch his own moment of vulnerability. But Harry’s best skill that’s kept him on top for this long is his ability to manipulate and control even the slightest showing of any emotion that plays to his advantage. So he takes four steps closer. Grimshaw stays put, doesn’t come any closer or back any further away.

His stroll is slow, casual, and he even sticks his thumb from his hand not holding the gun in his pocket. He catches sight of another man standing just a few feet back, thinking he’s hiding. “Drop your gun and we can negotiate you living through hurting one of my men.”

“The only negotiation we’re going to be having is how – “

“I think you might need a little lesson in listening, hm?” Harry grips him by his chin, quickly turns his head so he’s facing him and shoots him right in the knee. He screams as he falls to the floor. “Maybe now you’ll remember exactly how little power you have over me, eh Grimshaw? You’re forgetting you pay _me_ you answer to _me_ and you’re _owned by me.”_ Grimshaw is crying now, fingers bloody now where he’s clutching at his wounded limb. “Tell your little friend over here to drop his weapons, too, or else I’ll take your other knee.”

“Drop it, drop it.” He calls out and Harry hears a distinct sound of a gun _literally_ being dropped to the ground. It fires off and Harry watches as it goes right into the opposite wall.

“Quite the little team you have. Dropping a loaded gun.” Harry scoffs. “Come here, boy.” He says and watches as the kid scampers off over to him. He looks barely a day over fifteen, so maybe that’s what makes Harry give him the chance to choose his own fate. “Tell me who did this to him,” he points to Zayn, “And I’ll let you live.”

“I – it was um,” He looks panicky.

“You’re wasting my time.”

“It was him.” He points down to Nick. “’Cause he was sellin’ some glass ‘t one o’ the parties that we was selling at – ‘n we wasn’t making no money.”

“Good choice.” He says softly, then places a heel of his dress shoe against Nick’s throat, just pushing with enough pressure to leave a little fear in him, but not enough to kill him. “You answer to me now, understood? You bring me money, you live.”

“Um –“

“He’s –“ a cough, “He’s a _fuckin’_ kid, Styles, he don’t need to be brought into your world.” Nick says from the floor.

“That’s the thing about my world that you know very well, isn’t it Nick? If you cross me, you die. If you don’t cross me, you’re well taken care of.” He keeps eye contact with the boy who’s shaking now, but he chooses not to address that. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Austin.” He says quietly. “Um, Amaar – Austin.”

“Good lad. You’re going to get your first lesson on crossing me early, then. See those two there, you go with them. Nick-y and I are going to have a chat.” The kid scampers off to Liam, who’s got Zayn awake now. The blood seems to be coming mostly from a flesh wound on his arm and a pretty bold punch to his nose that seems to have broken it, so Harry’s glad they aren’t going to have to call in their doctor so early in the morning. It’s something simple enough that can wait until they get home.

Harry picks nick up by the back of his shirt, then drags him across the floor out to another car. “This your car, Nick?” He doesn’t get an answer, and he almost thinks that Nick has passed out from the pain, so he drops him to make sure he hasn’t. When that gets a yelp out of him, he asks again.

“Yeah, shit. It is. You ass-“

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothin’” He says this time, and Harry just grins.

“Keys. Now.” It takes barely a moment, but then Harry’s got the keys in his hand and he’s got Nick strapped in to the passenger’s side and they’re back on the motorway. He can see the headlights of his own car in his rearview – Liam’s back far enough that he isn’t blinded by the lights – and he’s just glad Liam knows to follow instructions, even when they aren’t spoken.

Nick’s passed out for most of the drive, and Harry is apathetic. He wonders, briefly, if Nick knows he’s about to die. He assumes that he does – assumes he knows that no one who crosses him really makes it out alive – so he doesn’t take pity on the thought that he’s unsuspecting.

They pull off road after a short amount of time and follow a decent dirt road until it comes to a car lot, loaded up with several junky old pieces that he’s always used to fix up his own cars when need be. There’s a crusher, too, but Harry’s not got much of a plan for that. Not tonight.

He pulls off to the side and gets out. Liam pulls up beside him and comes out, too, but doesn’t say anything. There’s a questioning look in his eye, so Harry decides to explain.

“Get me the spare shirt from the boot, the roll of tape, then my lighter.” Liam’s eyes widen, briefly, but he just does what he’s told. It’s another reason Harry loves him. When the tapes in his hand, he takes it around Nick’s wrists and binds them up to the door handle. He rips off another long piece and wraps it tight around Nick’s mouth and all around his head, then slaps him a bit to wake him up.

Nick comes back to consciousness and his eyes widen. He can see that pure terror there and Harry really does thrive off of that. “Night night, Nick.” He closes and locks the door, then opens the gas tank and stuffs the shirt in, lights it on fire, and sighs softly.

“Should probably drive back a bit. In case it blows up.” Liam says softly, and Harry nods. He’s fine with Liam’s suggestions, so the two of them get in the car and drive back about two hundred meters and turn around again to face Nick’s car.

Amaar looks just as terrified as Nick did, and Harry feels like it’s all right to actually pity the kid now. The car goes up in flames, but never explodes. It’s a bit anticlimactic, really, but Harry just shrugs. “Now you know, kid, don’t cross me and you’ll be fine.” He just made a fifteen-year-old kid watch a man burn alive, but the first thing out of his mouth is a warning that the same could happen to him.

“I’m –“ He starts. “I don’t –“ He shuts up, though, and Harry doesn’t really know what there is to say.

“Nothing to worry about as long as you’re smart, kiddo.” Harry drives away, and he can see Zayn sleeping, but breathing, in his rear view mirror. It’s a relief for himself, and he can tell it’s an even greater relief for Liam.

 

They wind up in central London to drop Amaar back off at his parent’s house with the promise that someone will come and find him within the week to talk again. The sun’s peeking over the horizon by the time the kid is behind his door, and Liam climbs into the backseat with Zayn. He understands – of course he does – that he needs that. Some kind of emotional attachment that he needs to tend to and Harry allows it. He’s not cruel enough to deprive his friends of that.

He only hurts people who deserve it. Something he has to remind himself of often.

 

When he returns to his room, Louis is awake and pillaging through his desk. Harry quirks an eyebrow and watches for a moment as he tosses _more_ shit right onto his floor without a care in the world. He hadn’t even finished cleaning up the _last_ mess that Louis made – so he says something before there’s too much of another mess. “Looking for something?” The boy jumps again and smacks his head against the top of the desk.

“Fuck. You’re – really good at sneaking up on me.”

“Care to explain why you’re going through my shit?”

“You left me in here with nothing else to do.” He says, and Harry thinks he’s actually _serious._ He’s _actually_ going through Harry’s things because he’s bored.

“You’ve been alone for less than four hours. It’s barely half eight.”

“Yes?” Harry is at a loss for words.

“Clean all of this up. All of it. Even the mess you made the first time. Now.” Louis gets up and crosses his arms. Harry hadn’t really taken the time before right then to realize how much smaller he was. He was probably only about 5’8 – compared to Harry’s 6’1. It was actually kind of cute how he thought he looked intimidating.

“It’s not my fault you left me here and didn’t expect me to make a mess.”

“You’re blaming me for this mess, because I left you here to _sleep?”_

“Yes.” Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He has not had nearly enough sleep to put up with this.

“I’m going to get something to eat. You are not leaving this room until everything is cleaned and put back in its proper place.”

“That’s quite rude.”

“And trashing my bedroom isn’t?”

“Of course it is. I didn’t say I wasn’t rude. You’re the host.” Louis is quite snarky today, Harry thinks. Maybe he should have played along this morning and let him get some of it out.

“Clean room equals food. I’m quite good at the waiting game, Louis.” Louis huffs.

“Fine. I’ll clean it. But – can you please not lock the door again? Like, I don’t care if you stay with me. I’m really – quite claustrophobic in here. Right now.”

“I suppose.” Harry says and opens the door and leans against the frame as he watches Louis start to pick up all of the shit he’s thrown about the room. He can’t help each little laugh when Louis tosses him a glare. Something inside of him is actually rather surprised that it was that easy to get him to do what he wanted – because he’d really expected having to force him to do it. It was a pleasant surprise.

It’s barely ten minutes of cleaning, but when Louis is done, he feigns exhaustion. He flops down on the floor, face down, and groans. It actually makes Harry _laugh._ This feels incredibly wrong – it feels wrong how he’s allowing Louis to be this snarky with him and it feels wrong that Louis makes him laugh in the kind of way no one else really does and it feels wrong that he is treating Louis _this_ kindly. He’s never treated a hostage quite like this.

“Come on, then.” He says and Louis picks himself up from the ground and they go out of the room and down the hall. Zayn’s sitting at the table, face swollen and red, nose crooked over to the side, both of his eyes blackened, and a thick bandage over his arm. Rosa is rubbing some cream over the bruises on his face, and Louis’ eyes widen when he sees him.

“Are you all right?” Comes from Louis’ mouth and the tiniest curve of Harry’s mouth pulls upwards. He loves that that’s the first thing he asks, instead of what’s happened. It’s so rare to find someone in his life who genuinely cares for anyone else’s well-being. Especially when that person had pressed a gun to Louis’ line of sight only the day before.

“Bit roughed up, but yeah. I’ll be all right.” 

“Amaar called me and said he’d like to talk to you tonight, if you’re free.” Liam says from the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. It’s made the entire kitchen smell like coffee and a slight hint of vanilla, the flavor he uses to fix up his coffee. Harry hates the taste of coffee, but he’s always loved the smell. It’s strong and rich and makes him think of home.

“Yeah. Give him my deals number, tell ‘im to text me.”

“All right.” Liam says and looks over to Louis. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, mate. What’s going on?” Liam asks, and Harry considers telling him to remember what he thought the first time he stood in this kitchen. Liam was older than him, but he could still very distinctly remember a freshly bruised and jumped Liam handing over his first stack of earnings from his first glass sales, and he’d looked like he was going to piss himself. Most people did until they knew Harry a bit better. He didn’t like to think he was as terrible as the rumors made him out to be. Not unless someone deserved it.

“You –“ Louis blinks. “You’ve got blood on your –“ Liam looks down and sees a small spot of blood on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Ah, yeah. Thanks.” He rolls the sleeve up and covers the spot, but Louis still looks a bit shaken.

“You can help yourself to whatever you like, Louis.” Harry says softly. “I’m making tea and toast if you’d like that?”

“Um, sure.” Liam cocks an eyebrow at Harry, but Harry pretends he doesn’t see it. Perhaps Liam can see that Harry’s being somewhat lenient on Louis – that he’s being too nice. Or maybe he’s just a little curious on how they’re all supposed to act around him, but he’s not going to let himself be bothered with that. Not now.

 

The day goes by smoothly. Louis is quiet almost the entire day, until Niall and him get to talking. Then they tell some stories, laugh a bit, and watch a little telly. Harry’s busy making phone calls and texting Amaar back and forth for most of the day, but he’s glad that Louis and Niall are hitting it off properly. As long as he has someone he really trusts with Louis at all times, he’s not going to bother with worrying about him too much.

 

Harry ends up taking Louis to a spare room on the other side of the house when night falls. It’s where all of the others sleep and he makes the bed up for him. It’s empty, the room, since no one had been in this room since his dad died when it was _his,_ but he doesn’t mention that. He doesn’t need to. “This is um,” He clears his throat, “This is yours, for the next three weeks at least.”

“Thanks.” Louis says softly. Louis looks around and he looks – he looks _sad._ Harry’s not clueless to all the reasons why he could be sad, why he could be feeling any emotion really, but he wants to know exactly what’s getting him so down. He’s not sure why he’s so curious, really, but something compels him to want to ask, to want to see if he’s okay, and to make sure that there’s nothing too bad going on in his head.

“All right?” Louis glares at him. He thinks he probably should have expected that. He’s been relatively calm and cool all day, so maybe it’s about time that the emotions all come out. He isn’t really sure how the brain works under trauma. He has a basic understanding of the way humans deal with grief from his health class in year nine, but he isn’t sure what could possibly be making Louis’ emotions change so rapidly.

“No, no it’s not all fucking alright.” Harry raises his eyebrows. “I’m – _fuck.”_ Louis rubs his hands over his face. “I have a life – things I need to be doing – a family that is probably worried as fuck about me, and you want to ask me if I’m all right? No, I’m _not!_ If you forgot already, I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home – I don’t want my own room and I don’t want _this!”_ He was crying by the end of it and Harry wasn’t sure what he was meant to say.

“I know this isn’t ideal –“

“Shut the fuck up! You’re always so _calm!_ It’s annoying! Why don’t you have any emotion? Why can’t I get a rise out of you? Get mad! Something! Give me a reason to hate you!” Harry quirked an eyebrow again, a little smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Are you done now?” Louis crossed his arms and just sat down on the bed. Harry couldn’t help the little chuckle that made Louis just glare at him again. He imagined this was appropriate. After all, he’d imagined he’d be looking after a child, so if Louis was going to act childlike, well, he couldn’t complain. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Suit yourself.”  Harry turns and walks out of the door, locks it behind himself when he hears little footsteps.

“Wait.” Louis says through the door. “When will you be back to let me out? What if I have to piss?” Harry rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on locking you in there at all, but you said you wanted to be left alone. You haven’t earned enough trust to be left alone without a locked door just yet.” He hears a huff, muffled by the door between them. Then it’s silent a moment and Harry almost walks away, almost leaves because of Louis’ lack of response.

“Fine, I’ll stop being a pain.”

“Will you really?”

“Probably.” Harry shakes his head and undoes the lock, letting him out. “I’m still not happy about this, just so you know. I’m cross with my father for leaving me here, so I guess it’s not fair of me to be cross with you… when you’re just doing this… job, or whatever.”

“I do appreciate that logic.”

“Plus, you haven’t like, killed anyone in front of me or anything, so I guess I shouldn’t be scared of you.”

“I suppose that’s a good enough reason not to be afraid of me. I think you might be one of the few that aren’t though.”

“Well, you are a rather famous criminal, Harry.” He’s not sure why he’s going to let Louis call him his first name. Liam is the only one who’s ever been allowed to do that, but he does. He just – he lets him. He’s realized that he’s going to let Louis do just about anything he wants and it’s almost scary. It’s almost terrifying to think that Louis could become his weakest link.

“I can’t deny that.” He pauses and jerks his head to the side to motion for Louis to follow him as they walk down the hallway. “But like I said earlier, I have no intentions to hurt anyone innocent. Never have, never will. So, stay on my good side and your time here will be fine, yeah?”

“And if I don’t stay on your good side?” The corner of Louis’ mouth is turned up at the corner, so he knows he’s being played with, and he _likes_ it. He likes that someone is finally willing to tease him, to speak to him like they aren’t terrified of him, and it gives him a bit of a rush. After years of speaking _at_ people instead of _with_ people, he’s gotten rather lonely. Liam and Niall have helped – as two of the only people he can really call his friends – but he thinks this could be something entirely different. This could be something that makes him feel real again, instead of like the villain in his life’s story book that just doesn’t ever seem to have the resolution he so craves.

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” Louis pouts at his uncertain answer, and Harry just winks. There’s something about messing with Louis like that that just feels natural – it makes him feel _good_ to be able to play around and be able to tease a little. He’s not going to count on Louis staying in this good mood – but he’s certainly going to enjoy it while it lasts.

The both of them grab something else to eat from the kitchen, and eventually Louis falls asleep on the couch. Harry carries him to Louis’ new room, and ignores the look he gets from Zayn.

“What?” He asks, once Louis’ door is shut behind him.

“I’ve just never seen you look at anyone that way is all, boss. Nothing.”

“I don’t look at him anyway!” He says in a strong tone and Zayn just shrugs.

“Right. And I definitely don’t shag Liam every night. Everyone has their _don’t_ ’s boss, there’s nothing wrong with it.” Zayn’s face is still bruised terribly, but he strolls away after he makes his comment and heads towards Liam’s room. He takes that as enough of a smack in the face and decides to just go to his own room to sleep.

As soon as he hits the bed, he’s out like a light.

 

 

 

**July 10 th , 2017**

Harry goes for a run the next morning. It’s been almost a week since he’s let himself go out and get a little exercise in – and he’s surprised to find that it still feels just as good. Liam had left nearly an hour before he did, so he knew he wasn’t going to run into him. The sun was peeking just barely over the horizon and the cold morning air nipped at each centimeter of his exposed skin. London air always smells a bit like vehicle smog and smoke – but it’s welcomed. London has become Harry’s home – and he’s not sure he could handle being away from a big city.

He runs along the canal and river route that he’s always been fond of – and he’s even early enough that there aren’t too many bikers that he has to dodge around to keep his pace steady. When he goes on his runs, he often forgets why he stopped going on them – what could have possibly made him think that it wouldn’t do him well to take out some energy in the mornings on something that made him feel at peace both in his body and his mind.

There’s a soft nudge of anxiety thrumming through his brain, just with the fact that he’s out in public. It’s always there – especially when he’s alone – but it’s the moments like this when he can only ignore it. Maybe he’ll go and have a visit with someone, to make sure that things are all all right. If for nothing else than to rid of some of his anxiety.

Sometimes, the only thing he can do to really help his nerves is to make sure that he remembers that he’s in control. He can do that most days by just going out and having a visit with some of his men who don’t live with him or who he doesn’t see often.

Or maybe he could just go _home._ It’s been a long time since he’s actually returned to the flat that he calls his own. It’s the one piece of himself that he hasn’t dedicated to his criminal self, and it’s always been like that. He knows better than anyone that if every single part of his life becomes a part of _that,_ he’ll go crazy. Sometimes, he thinks, that’s what happened with his dad.

After his mother left, he’d never really been the same. Maybe she knew about what he did, or maybe she just didn’t like that he was gone all the time. When Harry had chosen to go with him, he’d been so young that he wasn’t worried about the future. Sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if he wouldn’t have chosen to go with his father. Would he still be here if he’d made the decision to stay with his mother? Would he have finished school and gone to university? Would he be _normal?_

He runs a hand through his hair to rid himself of those thoughts and pushes forward on his run. Thinking like that will drive him crazy, too. There are just so many things that he knows not to think about. Love, life, and loss. If he thinks about love, he’ll only disappoint himself because it’s one of the few things he can never have. He can’t let himself fall in love because that person would only wind up dead.

He can’t think about life, because this is his life. This is how he lives, and even if it doesn’t really feel all that much like a life, most of the time, he knows that it is what it is and there isn’t a whole lot he could do to change it.

Loss is just – that would be what would destroy him. He’d lose it entirely if he thought about all of the lives he’s taken or about all of the friends he’s lost.

Three things. If he doesn’t think about those three things, he thinks, maybe he won’t end up like his father.

 

 

He returns home shortly after the sun is below the horizon. It smells like pizza and beer, but it doesn’t bother him. Louis and Niall are on the couch, playing FIFA and there’s an empty pizza box laid out in front of them.

“You fucker!” Louis yells and throws the controller down in his lap.

“I told you I was better at this than you.” Niall says and sticks his tongue out. Harry and Louis make a brief moment of eye contact, but then he’s retreating to his office without a word. There isn’t a lot that he has in mind to say to anyone, and he really just wants to be alone for a little while.

So he pulls out his laptop as soon as he gets inside and plays a few games of solitaire, just to calm himself down, and tries not to think. There’s enough noise coming from the sitting room that he assumes a few other people joined in with Niall and Luis, and he’s happy for them for a moment. He thinks it’s good that Louis is settling in and having a little fun. Maybe it’ll make the transition on him a bit easier.

But another part of him wishes that he could be out there with him, helping him make that easy transition and making him feel comfortable. But he can’t. He can feel it already, that he cares for Louis, but he can’t let it grow. He can’t let himself develop feelings for anyone – because it’ll only end badly.

 

Louis doesn’t come to find him and Harry doesn’t go to find him, either.

 

He doesn’t really see the point in putting forth effort if the other person isn’t going to do the same, anyway.

 

 

 

 

**July 11 th, 2017**

Harry wakes up and he’s already in a foul mood. It’s Tuesday once again and he’s already ready to go back to bed, but he can’t. He has things he needs to do and he knows he needs to function like a normal person, but staying in bed feels much more suitable for the mood he’s in.

But he forces himself out of bed anyway, stretches as soon as his feet hit the floor, and then heads over to the window and draws the blinds. It’s cloudy out – rainy and gray and it only serves to make his already dreadful mood even worse, it seems, because he just closes the curtains once again.

He thinks this mood might actually have a cause, though, and that cause is most likely Louis. The blue eyed boy had really been rubbing on his nerves in ways he didn’t really want to explain, but he did. The way he just seemed to make everyone love him and the way he just makes everyone in the room want to look at him – it irks him. He doesn’t even know why.

Maybe it’s just because he wants that attention on him. It’s stupid and entirely selfish but he’s also not going to deny that – he’s always loved being the center of attention. Plus, he’s not going to deny that Louis really is beautiful and he doesn’t like being ignored by pretty boys. It all just serves to make him somewhat grumpy and entirely unhappy.

Then – there’s a knock on his bedroom door that startles him. He’s – no one _ever_ knocks on his bedroom door unless it’s an emergency and as he gets up and swings the door open, he has a scolding on his tongue until he sees Louis with tears in his eyes and a cut on his face. Immeditely, the anger simmers down inside of him and he ushers Louis in. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

“It’s stupid. I just – “

“Who hurt you, Louis? It’s not stupid and I told you I’m not going to stand for anyone hurting you in any way.”

“They didn’t even – I don’t know who it is.”

“What did he look like?”

“Red hair. Um.” Harry nodded. “Please don’t – like. Don’t hurt him. It was my fault and I instigated it. I guess I just forgot, like, who I was around. I used to tease my friends back home like that all the time and none of them have ever punched me.”

“Ed angers easily. If you’re sure you don’t want me to talk to him, then I won’t.” Louis nods and sits on Harry’s bed. It cracks a smile out of Harry because he thinks Louis is the only person who actually treats _him_ like a person. So many people are so afraid of him that they won’t speak to him normally unless they’re given permission and almost no one will ever act normally around him. Aside from Liam and Niall, that is, but they’re his friends.

“Have you been awake long?” Louis asks and Harry shakes his head no. He nods and Harry smiles in an attempt to get rid of the awkward silence in the room. “Well, Styles, what are you waiting for? Join me and put a movie on.” Harry quirks an eyebrow, but his smile only grows as he crawls on the bed beside Louis and presses the on button of the telly in his bedroom.  

They lay together for a while and just watch each movie as it comes on the telly and it feels good. Harry’s not sure why it feels good to spend time with someone who he really shouldn’t be bonding with, but something about even just being around Louis seems to brighten his mood. He has this vibe about him that makes him feel much more at peace than he has in a long while.

Almost everyone else around these parts have a negative or sketchy vibe that Harry doesn’t like to associate himself with. Liam and Niall – and sometimes Zayn – are really the only three people within his little group that he would ever really consider people he could be around often and not get a weird feeling about it. Louis, though, Louis is a different story entirely because he can light up an entire room with one smile and can change the entire atmosphere with a single sentence.

It's not fair.

Harry’s supposed to be in a bad mood and he really still is, but Louis is making him _happy._ He likes to have his one day a week – his Tuesdays – where he can just let himself surrender to the emotions. Everyone else around him knows about his Tuesdays, but it seems that Louis doesn’t so he’s trying to be nice and attentive, still. It’s kind of – it’s actually really nice.

 

He fell asleep at some point, and waking up with Louis’ head on his chest is both disorienting and comforting at the same time. But it’s the same fear he’s had the entire time he’s had this fondness with Louis – he doesn’t want anyone to target him if they discover this fondness. So, he just has to dismiss it.

Sadly, though, that’s much easier said than done.

He crawls out of bed and pulls the comforter over Louis’ body, lets him sleep as he leaves, and the bad mood settles back deep in his bones.

 

The wind whips against his skin as he walks down fifth avenue. He thinks back to when he was little and how he’d dream about how he’d make it big one day – how he’d always wanted to be a star and be able to buy these homes left and right at a hundred thousand pounds a piece. He’s in a situation now where he probably could if he wanted to, but it’s still – it’s different. His dreams when he was a child were never about the money, they were always about the experience.

He’d always wanted to make people happy and always wanted to do something that the world would remember him for. Perhaps he will be remembered – but it’ll be in the way that no one will cry when he dies. No one cries for the worst of human kind.

He tucks his hands in his pockets and watches as a police car speeds by, lights blazing as the sirens scream and cut through the daily noise that pollutes the streets. He’s long since been anxious of being caught – because he doesn’t really think he will be.

He’s not sure if the police have pictures of him or not, but if they do, they haven’t made any actions that he’s keen to to catch him, so. He doesn’t worry about that.

He picks his mobile from his pocket and dials up Zayn’s number. It’s been a while since he’s been out on the streets, and while Harry knows he’s only out for a few hours today, he figures he could help him out. Something about his mood today – the fighty, angsty mood – makes him feel the need to put himself in some kind of danger.

“’ello?” Zayn says on the other end, and the thrumming of party music is already obvious, though muffled, through the speaker. “Sorry, Boss, let me get where I can hear ya.” Then it’s just the sound of the music, then a click, and the music is gone. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Where are you?” Is all Harry says and he’s almost certain Zayn is panicking by the hitch in his breath. “You’re not in any kind of trouble. I’m just. I want to go out on the streets for a while. Low key like.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I’m on Burrows, the big house with the green on the outside.”

“Alright.”

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“I know you’re probably in your Tuesday mood or whatever, so just like, be careful, yeah? Even if we’re all kind of scared of you – I know how much Liam would whine to me if you got hurt, so.” Harry takes that as Zayn’s way of expressing that he cares, too, so he just sighs. He’s never learned how to accept comments like that, because they all feel somewhat fake and wrong, to be cared for when he’s such an awful person because of the things he’s done.

“Yeah. See you soon.”

 

As it turns out, dealing at parties isn’t nearly as fun as it is on the streets. Zayn’s entire turn out comes from promises for the future and numbers put in phones. He doesn’t actually carry on him at parties – since they’re so much more likely to get told to quiet down by the police. But the music is fun and Harry even lets himself have a little fun for the afternoon.

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to London’s infamous mid-day parties, though. Something about a room full of people drinking and having a party at only half three was something that never really happened when he was home. Or, if it did, he didn’t hear about them.

Even after being in London for years and seeing this kind of thing every weekend, it never really made sense to him. But it’s all in the fun, so he’s stopped trying to over analyze the behavior of normal eight to five weekday workers.

“You coming back to the flat with me, Boss?” Zayn asks and Harry considers for a moment. That would be when Zayn would actually be with the people who would be getting high. So, he decides to pass.

“Not this time, but I will eventually.” He sighs. “Let me bum a smoke though, would you?” Zayn quirks an eyebrow, but he still knows better than to say anything and pulls out his pack and gives one over to Harry.

They part without another word.

Harry walks all the way back down to first avenue, just to force himself to breathe in some fresh air alongside the cigarette smoke. He puts it out when it’s half burnt with the bottom of his shoe and sighs as he walks past the burning bud left on the side walk.

 

“Harry, you all right?” Louis asks him as soon as he walks inside. He looks at him for a moment, but ignores the question and everything else and just goes to his office and closes the door. He’s not sure why everything is so overwhelming in that moment, but it is, and he can’t help but let it get to him for that moment.

He sits down and lights up one of his candles and sets his head on his desk. Louis is making his head spin in the kind of way he can’t really explain, and it makes him upset. There’s a knock on his door a few minutes later, and then the locked-knob jiggles. He knows it’s Louis but he doesn’t – he can’t deal with that right now. So he just lets him walk away and doesn’t say anything else.

Something needs to happen to make him feel better, so he decides to text his sister.

 _Can we meet up tomorrow?_ He sends the message and stares at the letters in the blue bubble for a moment before he adds. _I miss you._

She responds almost immediately, _Of course, bro. When and where? x_

He feels better after that.

 

Louis is in his room, watching his TV when he decides to go from his office to retreat to bed. He looks tired, dark shadows under his eyes and his body is folded over into the duvet in the kind of way that says he’s far too comfortable to be willing to move. He smiles as soon as he sees Harry, though, and moves to sit up. “Hi.” He says. “Sorry if I bothered you earlier. Um. Yeah.”

“It’s all right.” He says softly. “It’s just – a thing. I guess. Everyone around here except you knows I get into these… moods… on Tuesdays. It’s nothing personal.” Louis nods and stands up off of the bed, stretches, and Harry can hear a few of his joints pop. “You um, can stay and finish your movie, if you want.”

“You look like you’re ready for bed. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” He nods and watches as Louis opens the door quietly and then closes it, the soft click behind him the only noise that even shows that he left at all. Harry lays down in his bed and listens to the voices on the telly playing, but all he can really focus on is that it smells a little bit like a mixture of Niall and Zayn’s cologne in his bed, which is a smell he’s started to associate with Louis. He’s pretty sure he steals a spray or two of each of his friends’ colognes each day, in a way to create a scent of his own. It’s endearing.

After the movie ends, he shuts the telly off and pulls his clothes off, tosses them onto the ground and just lays on his back and stares at the roof. His mood is still off and he feels – weird. It’s hard to explain it any other way, and he’s not even sure he could, so he just sighs. Sleep will help.

So he closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

It doesn’t come for a few hours, but eventually, the darkness takes over.

 

 

**July 12 th , 2017 **

The café smells strongly of sweetened coffee and people are chattering around him as he sips at his tea. He’s early and the remaning people from the lunch rush are lingering inside of the little building with coffee cups and pastries in their hands as they chat amongst each other and a few others work on their laptops. It’s the kind of environment Harry loves to go to just to learn how to people watch – to see if he can figure out people’s emotions and practice with doing so. Coffee shops are truly a world of their own, especially in the middle of busy London streets.

But this shop – this little shop that a friend of Harry’s mum owns – has always been a true place in the world that Harry has always considered a second home. He’s always been comfortable and he knows that Gemma feels the same, so he only hopes that this is the best place he could have chosen for a meeting place.

It’s been too long since they’ve seen each other. He knows he doesn’t even have an excuse that he can really give to Gems for the length of his absence, so it only serves to make him feel worse. The bell jingles and three girls walk out and one of them holds the door open for his sister. She has her son’s hand in hers and he immediately feels something like tears rushing to his eyes.

He hasn’t seen Gemma since she was half way through her pregnancy, and now there’s a child – not even a toddler – walking beside her. He feels like the worst person on the planet. “Hi, Haz.” She says and smiles; it’s the smile that has always lit up his world – something he’s always thought was incredible, since he was a child. Seeing his older sister smile has always made him happy.

“Hi, Gems.”

“James, this is Uncle Harry.” She says to the child and he waves, but he’s tucked himself behind her leg. Shy, he thinks.

“Hi James.” He says and smiles.

“I’m going to go grab a drink and something to eat. We’ll be right back.”

“Oh, no. Gems, let me pay. I invited you here.” She looks him over a moment and her eyes narrow like she’s about to argue, but her resolve probably isn’t as strong as it was when they were both kids – when she didn’t have all of her energy exerted on a baby.

“All right.”

“Mummy can I get a lolly?” James asks and his voice is slow and drawn out, but he has more of a central accent rather than their midland accent. He remembers briefly that his father was born in London and has more of a royal accent. It’s cute, still.

“Of course, love. Don’t tell your daddy though, yeah?” His eyes light up and he nods quickly. Gemma ends up getting a slice of pumpkin bread and a small coffee and James gets his lolly and a little hot chocolate and they sit together.

“I’ve missed you.” Is what Harry says first. Looking at Gemma up close, he can tell she’s well rested. He’s so happy – so, so happy that she’s all right. As much as he hates how much he can worry himself to death, he really can. He tries to shut it off – tries to shut off the part of his brain that worries about his family and his friends from school and all of the things he had to leave behind when he chose to persue this life.

“It’s been a long time, H. We all miss you.”

“I know.”

“Mum still… um.” She clears her throat. “Mum still sets out a plate for you every Christmas, you know, just in case.” Harry looks down to the table and that – that really hits home. It hurts. It hurts a lot more than he ever thought it would. He’s numbed himself to feeling much emotion at all other than anger and worry – the sadness is new and unusual and he doesn’t like it.

“I – does she really? Even… after all this time?”

“Yeah. She’s kind of – you know we all think it’s a bit sad – but she’s kind of got this idea in her head that you’re going to just show up one day.” He bites his lip. “All the holidays, really. Christmas is when she gets the worst, though.” He still has this heavy feeling in his chest, something like he’s about to throw up but also like he’s being crushed by the weight of this terribly sad information.

“Gemma I –“

“No, H. I think. I think you should hear this, yeah? I’m really not trying to make you feel bad – I’m not. But mum she just – she misses you so dearly. It hits her so hard all the time and I can’t even tell her that I know you’re okay because I know you don’t want to talk to her and I’m not going to force you to, but I just. I wish you would.”

“She… you all think I just don’t want to talk to her?” His voice cracks somewhere in the middle of his sentence and Gemma just nods. “God, no. It’s just – no. I love mum. I love her dearly. I wish I could come to holidays with you lot I just –“

“Work. Yeah. We know, H. It would just be a lot more convincing if you actually told us what it is you do. How you have so much money when you’re so young.”

“I would if I could. I’m just not allowed to discuss anything about what I do.” The elaborate lie all started with his father when he was fifteen. When he first got involved, it started with his father ‘training’ him. His mother was convinced that his father had a government job – the party joke of _if I tell you I’ll have to kill you_ but it’s not a joke. If he were to tell anyone, he would practically be killing them.  

“I know, H.” She sighs softly. “Thank you for meeting with me, though.”

“How have things been?”

“Good, good. Alan and I moved into our own house – not a flat. Things at the hospital have been good. Mum’s in good health. Everything is – it’s good.”

“I’m really happy to hear that. Truly.”

“If you um, if you have any kind of…” She pauses and Harry hates that she has to calculate her words so carefully around him. “If you want, Alan and I are throwing a little get together – to celebrate moving in to our house – next weekend. You don’t have to come, of course. But… if you want to.” She trails off like she doesn’t expect Harry to come. He probably won’t come, but that’s hard to admit. It’s really hard to tell his sister that he won’t come to something important to her.

“I’ll try.” She nods and it’s the terrible, dreadful feeling that she doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

The rest of their time is mostly small talk and by the end of it, Harry doesn’t feel as sad. He still feels as disattached and distant as he had at the beginning, but it feels good to be in the know – to hear about everything and everyone who he loves and cares for.

When James starts getting cranky and isn’t really able to sit still much longer, Gemma says it’s time for her to go. They make the empty promise to meet up again soon, but he’s certain they both know that they won’t see each other any time soon. It’s really – it hurts, especially as he’s walking away and watches as Gemma straps James into his seat in her nice, suburban car.

He’s a terrible brother.

 

Instead of going straight back to where he likely needs to be, he decides to go shopping. It’s a bad habit, but it’s nothing his wallet can’t handle. He’s a stress shopper, likes to spend money when he feels like a terrible person, so that’s exactly what he does.

He goes to the mall and parks in the very back. A little walk to the front of the building would never do anyone any harm, so he walks inside and enjoys the feeling of being able to do what he wants. The first store is rather boring, nothing exciting and the material of their dress shirts makes his skin itch, so he goes to another.

By the time he’s gone into three and not bought anything, he realizes that there isn’t anything he really wants. He doesn’t really need anything and because he’s always had the chance to go anywhere and buy anything he wants, there’s nothing he’s really itching for.

So he just buys a new watch before he dials up Niall’s number. “Hello?” The irish lad says on the other side and then there’s a loud boom of Louis’ laugher. He feels an odd surge of jealousy shoot through his heart and sighs.

“Ask Louis what sizes he wears. I’m at the mall and I’m tired of him wearing my clothes.” The question he’d just told Niall to ask is repeated with the receiver away from his mouth and Harry listens before he gets his answer. “Thanks, Niall. See you later.”

 

When he walks back inside with three bags, Louis has his arms crossed. “I cannot believe you went shopping for me and didn’t even let me go.”

“I bought you a little bit of everything, so.” He shrugs and Louis looks a bit nervous as he picks through the bags. “If you want to try them on, feel free. They’re all yours.”

“Thank you.” He says genuinely and takes the bags and retreats to his room.

 

It’s about fifteen minutes until Louis is screeching at him again. “Harry!” His high voice says from the other side of the living room.

“What?”

“You did _not_ spend two hundred pounds on a jumper for me! I demand you take it back!” He sounds genuinely exasperated and Harry can only laugh. He’s not sure why it’s so funny, but it really is.

“Do you like it?”

“It was two hundred pounds, Harry!”

“That wasn’t my question. Do you like it?”

“Well, yes. But –“

“Then it doesn’t matter. Almost all of the jumpers in there are around that much anyway. I don’t shop at department stores.” Louis makes another screeching noise and stomps back to his room. Harry laughs again and rolls his eyes.

But before long Louis slips out and he’s in one of the jumpers – a pretty maroon one with darker stitching – and sits right beside Harry. “Thank you.” He says again and Harry just smiles. 

**July 13 th , 2017**

It’s weird to wake up to breakfast already being made, but it’s even stranger to wake up to Louis standing around making the food in the clothes he’d bought him the day before. His breathe catches in his throat just a bit when he sees Louis – he’s clean shaven and he really just looks soft. Something about it makes his heart beat fast and makes the urge to smile tug at his cheeks in a way he hasn’t really felt in years.

He’s been suppressing the feelings that he feels for Louis – up until this point at least. He hates denying himself good things, though. So he’s decided he really doesn’t want to anymore.

“You look um, you look really good today.”

“I look really good every day, asshole.” Louis seems to be in a bad mood, but Harry knows well enough that it’s just his usual sass. “I made pancakes. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Liam came out and nearly fainted when he saw that there was actually food. Then he took some to Zayn. They’re really cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” Harry pretends that little fact doesn’t really bother him.

 

Harry has to leave later that night, but he isn’t able to without more pouting from Louis than he’d ever thought possible. He was tossed a list of things he needs – ranging from things that actually seem necessary to things that are absolutely insane.

The most insane being an _extra large, speedy bro!_ (don’t forget the exclamation mark!) _dildo._

His night out on the town was meant to be fun and party filled – as nights out with Zayn usually are – but by midnight, he really just wanted to go home and go to sleep. Louis drains him in the best way.

When he gets back to his room, Louis is curled up in a ball on top of his duvet, sleeping peacefully.

He’s really, honestly, not sure what came over him when he actually bought the dildo. He sets everything that had been on Louis’ list in a bag and sets it beside the sleeping boy and goes over to his desk. He pulls out his finance journal and writes down everything he’d bought for the day. It’s obsessive, a bit, but it’s another habit he picked up from his dad. Keeping track of redundant little amounts of money that don’t make any kind of a dent in his pocket.

He’d spent just a little under a hundred and fifty pounds on his little shopping trip. Whatever.

Louis sleeps through the rest of the night.

Harry throws a second duvet over Louis’ sleeping body before crawling into bed beside him. It’s his own bed, afterall. 

**July 14 th, 2017**

“So, I’ve been here for a week and I still don’t even know what it is that you do every day.” Louis says from the bed, body stretched out and his eyes closed. He could easily pass of as sleeping if he wasn’t talking. There’s a soft glow of light casting over his body and it makes his eyelashes look all the more defined and long and they cast little shadows over his cheeks that Harry can’t deny he’s beyond attracted to.

“That’s mostly because this is all I do all day.” He says with a little grin. “Believe it or not, I don’t actually walk around killing people for fun.” Louis laughs and Harry just rolls his eyes. He likes Louis’ laugh, he’s discovered. It’s loud and bright and it makes everyone else in any room just light up with the same happiness that he seems to have. It’s infectious in the absolute best way.

“Well – can you like, explain this whole gang thing to me then, please? Cause I don’t get it. Honestly, I always thought like a proper mafia was just in the movies.” Harry laughs a bit and Louis opens his eyes. He looks tired, but still a bit brighter than he has at other times during the week, so for that, Harry is grateful.

He does feel bad when he sees Louis walking around like a zombie and he feels even worse when he walks by his room and hears the muffled crying, but he doesn’t know if there’s even anything he can do to make him feel better. At least not anything that he could do right now without ruining an entire plan that has already been put into motion. So, he doesn’t know what to do and frankly he isn’t sure he ever will. When Louis leaves, Harry knows he’ll have some kind of left over trauma that will haunt him and he’ll have holes to patch up in stories and he’ll have a lot of problems that Harry has created, but he doesn’t let himself feel bad about all of it.

He can’t let himself feel bad about anything except a select few things or else he’ll drive himself crazy. There’s too much tragedy in his life to feel bad about everything and still remain normal. But he sighs and tries to think of the best way to explain his life to Louis without making himself sound too terrible. “Well, my dad was Desmond Styles. He’s the one who really built all of this up, I guess. He certainly was the type that went around killing for fun, so I suppose that reputation has just carried over to me.” He pauses for a moment and Louis’ eyes are trained on him, like he’s listening to each word coming out of his mouth intensely. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, really, but he isn’t going to allow himself to really read into it. “The normal way to gain any kind of power in a gang is to either get on the leader’s good side – which would be how Niall got here – or to get jumped in. Jumping in is a little more common, and it’s also quite a bit more brutal. Liam got his way through the ranks like that, before my dad died.”

It’s always hard to explain these things to someone who hasn’t grown up around it. Almost everyone here has grown up in some kind of crime-filled environment, whether that was selling drugs at secondary or having been involved in some of his minor gangs before they found their way up the system to him. So, explaining is a little more difficult than he’d thought.

“How do you… How do you jump someone in?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Duh.” Harry rolls his eyes again, and that gets a little smile out of Louis, which makes him feel a little better. He’s conflicted, sometimes, because there’s a part of him that wants to see Louis like this – wants to see Louis smiling and happy and feeling comfortable all the time – but then there’s the other half of him that knows he should make sure Louis is terrified of him. He should be and Harry should make sure he always will be, if for nothing else than making sure he doesn’t open his mouth too wide when he leaves.

“Alright, well the typical way to do it is to have a second follow the person who’s wanting to be jumped in for a few days, then they pick a street and tell them to be there at a certain time. For my group we’ve always done it along the avenue, with the numbered streets. So, when that person gets there, my second, Liam, would have all of the people with him on the street that day pretty much just rush at the person. No weapons are allowed, it’s just a fist fight. They have to go for the amount of seconds that the street name is. When they get to sixty sixth, they have to fight me. Which, never has really turned out well for anyone.”

“That’s – a little weird. What’s a second?”

“Liam is mine. He’s my second in command, I guess. He takes over if I die before I have a child who’s older than eighteen and interested in taking over the business.” 

“So it’s all just like, a hierarchy?”

“Basically. The higher up you get, the less dirty work, the more people you get to boss around, and more money that trickles into your pocket.”

“I don’t get why everyone is so – why is everyone so afraid of you lot, then? If all you do is boss people around?” Harry can’t help but quirk his eyebrow.

“That’s where the fun comes in, Lou. But we can save that for another day, yeah?”

“I don’t want to save it. I want to hear about it all now – It’s not fair that I can’t know what you’re up to when you leave me here all day?”

“Ask me again in a week, and maybe I’ll tell you.” Louis turned over on his side, which Harry assumed was some way of him to show that he wasn’t happy with being denied what he wanted to know, but Harry just honestly isn’t ready for Louis to hate him. He doesn’t particularly want to tell him how telling people wasn’t really all he did – that he runs other mini-gangs and sells drugs and watches over prostitution rinks and lets his men be pimps and turns blind eyes whenever people die. He doesn’t like to tell anyone these things, except maybe Liam.

Liam is the only person who has ever heard him discuss all of the things he’d seen, and coincidentally, he’s the only person who’s ever seen him cry, too.

It’s a strange feeling, really, but he wants to let Louis live a sheltered life. It’s not even that he’s trying to protect himself in the likely-hood that Louis would run off to the police and get his entire empire busted, but he really just doesn’t want to expose him to what all of this is. It’s too much  - and he knows that things like this can really damage someone. He hears Niall’s screams at night sometimes – hears him wake up gasping from the nightmares – and he just doesn’t want to do that to anyone else.

It’s better to just let him be angry without knowing than fuck him up with information.

 

 

 

**July 15 th , 2017**

Louis gives him the cold shoulder the next day, probably because he won’t tell him where he goes during the day. Really, he doesn’t want to talk about that. He doesn’t like to tell anyone where he goes during the day because it tends to ruin his fearful reputation.

He doesn’t walk about the streets stealing candy from babies and killing anyone who gives him dirty looks, after all. So, telling Louis would ruin that illusion of fear that he honestly isn’t sure he still has, but it’s worth a shot to think that he might still think that.

He’s not even sure why he wants that illusion.

But he just. He just does.

When he’d left this morning, Louis had been eating cereal at the front table and only gave him a dirty look when he grabbed a banana as he walked out of the kitchen.

He decided to go home, for some reason. As soon as he gets there, he pets his cat and gives her food – something he’s certain whoever else takes care of her does – and goes to his bedroom.

His cat’s name is Dusty. She’s not really his cat – at least he doesn’t think it would be entirely right to refer to her as that – because the people one flat above his own take care of her when he’s not home. Which is most of the time.

But as soon as he settles down on his bed, she lays on top of him and purrs like she hasn’t seen him in years. He stares at his ceiling before everything just feels a little too much.

“I’ve gotta go again Dusty.” He kisses the ugly little cat on the top of her head before he heads out. There’s a cat door on his bedroom window, so he knows she can come and go as she pleases, and he heads back home.

Louis is nowhere to be seen, so he just lays down in his own bed and falls asleep within minutes.

 

It’s dark and cold inside of his house. It’s – it’s _his_ house where he goes when he needs to escape. Everything is murky and there’s a record playing somewhere in the background that he can’t quite identify, soft classical music that normally would calm him, but instead it just gives him anxiety.

He flicks a light on and it’s too bright. He has to put a hand in front of his eyes to shield himself from the brightness – but when his eyes adjust he sees his mother. All he can do is stare – wide mouthed and confused as he watches her squirm about in her ties, blindfold tight over her eyes and duct tape firm over her mouth.

He tries to take a step forward, but he falls over. He can’t get himself up, either, like there’s a force holding him down that he can’t see. “Mum!” He shouts out, but it doesn’t seem like she can hear him.

Then, there’s a dark figure right beside her with a gun in it’s hand and it holds it right up to her head. He struggles against the invisible binds holding him in place until his muscles burn and tears are pricking at his eyes, but as soon as he finds the strength to move, the gun fires.

He always wakes up before he sees her die.

It’s the same, recurring dream that never seems to leave him alone. It came a lot more often when he’d first left her permanently, but even now, when he hasn’t seen her in _years,_ that same fear of having to watch her die makes him feel sick. Every time the dream comes, he can never find it in himself to go back to sleep. Maybe it’s the fear that he’ll see it happen all the way through, or maybe it’s just the need to rid his body of the thrumming anxiety and nerves deep beneath his skin.

Louis twitches beside him, and he’s suddenly reminded that he’s not alone. “Y’alright?” Louis’ high, sleepy voice asks, muffled from where his face is shoved against the pillow.

“I’m fine.”

“Kay.” He says and then his breathing evens out all over again and Harry rubs his eyes and sighs. He likes that Louis sleeps with him now – it’s comforting and somewhat nice to have a warm body laying beside him, but then there are these moments of vulnerability that he doesn’t want to face with anyone else. Liam is the only person who really knows about his problems and his dreams and he’s not entirely ready for anyone else to know him on that kind of a personal level just yet.

So, he pulls himself out of bed and watches as Louis moves about on the bed to adjust to the loss of his weight. He doesn’t wake up, though, so Harry doesn’t let himself dwell on it. Instead, he walks out of the room and goes into the kitchen.

It’s silent – the only sound the low humming of the refrigerator. So, he turns the tap on and runs the water for a moment, watches as it runs down the drain. He likes the sound of running water, in a strange way. It makes his head feel clear, like the thoughts go down the drain right beside the water.

But it’s only for a moment, because then he’s filling up the kettle with water to make tea. It’s another ritual that he’s always done when the nightmares keep him awake. Tea calms him, even if he can feel the caffeine spike building beneath his skin for an hour or two after each cup he finishes.

He sits at the table a while and just thinks – he thinks about his life and his mum and his sister and all of the things he left behind when he took over what his father had built. He thinks until he really doesn’t know what to think anymore – but there’s the one remaining question that never seems to leave him alone: can he change?

He’s never thought so, but, it’s a question for another day.

 

Louis stays in his room until well past noon – and by the time he comes out, he and Liam have cash spread out across the dining room table, counting and documenting all of it. It’s placed into three different piles, one for what they’re going to divide up, one for the next order of drugs they plan to buy, and one for what they’re going to divide up among his dealers.

He likes to think he pays his dealers well, but these are the moments when he realizes that these people aren’t always here for the money. Beyond their cash-cut that they get from each sale, it’s not that much. He thinks maybe each of them makes about four grand a month. It’s something they could all make if they had gone to school and found themselves a decent career, maybe, but he doesn’t question what they do.

“Boss?” Ed asks from a few feet away. Harry glances up. He doesn’t know why he thinks that it’s okay to bother him right now, when he’s in the middle of something so important, but he decides to do it anyway. Harry doesn’t get caught up on it, though. For the first time in a long while, he’s actually calm when he’s being interrupted when he’s doing something important.

“What?”

“Um. Louis is awake and asked me if I could take him out. Can I?”

“No. Tell him to come here.”

“All right.” He goes back to counting the money, stacks another twenty on top of the other five and clips it together to make a nice stack of a hundred. He gets through five more stacks before there’s the sound of footprints against wooden floors and he looks up to see Louis sitting there.

“So, you want to go out?”

“Yeah – I’m. I just. I really have never been kept inside for this long before. I’ve always loved to go outside and be out and not be cooped up inside, so I guess I just feel a little claustrophobic.”

“Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Anywhere, really.”

“Think of somewhere specific and we can go. I have to run some errands anyway.”

“Cool.” Louis says, but a glance at his face reveals his true enthusiasm. Harry hadn’t thought about how that could have bothered him – being stuck inside. But apparently it does.

He counts out the rest of his money and presses each amount meant to go to his people into white, business envelopes and places them inside of his bag. There’s a pistol tucked in there, too, but he hasn’t had to use it in quite a long time. It’s a nice feeling to not have to go out and really have to _defend_ himself – people just know not to mess with him.

 

It’s an hour later before Louis comes out with a place in mind, and Harry nods. He tosses his bag over his shoulder and the two of them make their way out to his car – a black range rover with dark tinted windows and leather seats. He doesn’t use it very often, just when he wants to go out and be Harry instead of Boss. It’s another moment of relief that he likes to have when he doesn’t have anywhere else to escape to.

Louis seems to appreciate his car just as much as Harry does, and Harry can’t help but laugh. “I cannot believe you have this nice of a car. This car costs like, as much as my entire rent for a _year!”_

“It’s my pride and joy.”

“I can see why.”

“Do you like cars?”

“I have an appreciation for a lot of things that I can’t have. I drive a honda civic, so, nice cars really do make me happy.” He pauses for a moment as Harry punches the passcode in to unlock the doors, then he climbs inside. “Can I drive it? One day? Maybe?” Harry laughs again and rolls his eyes, but Louis doesn’t seem defeated by that. Instead, that seems to just egg him on further and make him want to keep pestering him about it. “Please? Come on. I’m a good driver –“

“Maybe.” Harry says with an eye roll. “I’ll probably make you test drive one of my other cars first, though, because if you crash this I would actually have to kill you.” He says it – and it’s meant to be a joke – but Louis’ face seems to pale with the realization that he could _actually_ kill him. “That – was a joke. Sorry.”

“So, you’re letting me drive it?” Harry smacks him in the shoulder lightly as he starts it up and drives off. Louis is still grinning.

 

He drives down the motorway quietly for a long while, the zip of the cars going by them calming. He loves driving – the freedom it brings and the idea of _running away_ that is oh-so-fleeting but also so appealing. He thinks about it, sometimes. He thinks about how he could run away and make a new life and become another man who doesn’t have _this_ life. He could go to America and become someone entirely new, or he could run away to a little country somewhere and work some simple jobs that would just keep him entertained and able to function. Those are the thoughts that are always just fleeting – things he’d never act on – but he likes to entertain the idea.

“Do you really only have classical CDs?” Louis asks – startling him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized that he was digging through the center council of his car, but then he was and he couldn’t help the glare he gave. Louis wasn’t looking at him, though, so he didn’t notice.

“It’s all I listen to.” He says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He really does only listen to classical music; the calm of the tunes has always reminded him of when he was a child and his mother would play her violin to Gemma to try and get her to sleep. It was awkward, sometimes, because he’d always thought that mothers would sing to their children – but his mother didn’t have the kind of singing voice that she liked to share.

“You’re walking irony, aren’t you?” Louis has narrowed eyes, but there’s a soft smirk playing on his lips. “I love it. I’m a drama teacher – so something about irony has always gotten me excited.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re like – a criminal, right? Like, I guess the sterotype would be rock music and lots of drugs and messes and all of these things that you see on telly, but you’re none of that. You’re soft music and sobriety and perfect organization, and it’s unsettling.”

“Unsettling, really?”

“Well, yeah.”

“That’s the thing, though, if I let myself fall into those stereotypes, I become what I do. If I can separate myself from work and personal life, I can stay sane.”

“I feel like there’s a story behind that. Can I hear it?”

“The museum is only five minutes away.” It’s a poor excuse for deflection – to not have to open up to Louis in a way that he’s not entirely sure he’s ready to do – but Louis picks up on that far too quickly for his liking.

“So take me to another museum, farther away.” That same grin is still tugging the corners of his mouth upwards and Harry just doesn’t have it in him to say no to that. There’s such innocence there – so much curiosity from someone who doesn’t realize the amount of danger that he could very easily be putting himself in to, so maybe that’s what makes Harry decide to indulge him.

“I inherited this … thing … from my dad. Desmond Styles – the most feared London Mob boss of the last two centuries, or whatever.” Harry says. He tries not to let the disappointment show too clearly in his voice, because he really hates talking about his father. It makes him sad and makes him think about what could – and very likely will – happen within the next few years to him. “He lived it, breathed it, loved everything about it. He thrived off of the power and swam in the money and let it take over his entire life.” He turns left instead of right, avoiding the museum that Louis had first requested they go to. “He died because of that. He never took a break and thought he was the most powerful man in the world – so that power got to his head and it got him killed.”

“Well, wasn’t he the most powerful man? I remember growing up we’d hear about it on the news all the time – the things he did and the people he killed.”

“He was incredibly powerful, yeah. But there was another gang around when he was alive. Simon Cowell was the boss’ name. He’s long dead, now, but back then – he and my father were really, really competitive. Then he got cocky and he thought he could beat him easily.”

“Right.”

“So I have to separate myself from that. I can’t let my work get to my head and I can’t let myself get absorbed inside of it like he did, because I don’t’ want to meet that same fate. I know I’ll die one day, of course, and it’ll probably be because of work, but I don’t want it to be my own cockiness that causes it.” Louis is quiet for a while.

“Beethoven or Bach?”

“Bach.” Harry says and Louis slips a CD into the player. Harry looks over to him and smiles, watches as Louis looks out the window and the brightness of the sun streaming in makes the blue of his eyes even brighter. He has a sudden urge to reach out and touch him – to hold him and be _kind._

A car horn sounds loudly from behind him and he realizes that he’d been drifting over a lane, but then he catches himself and keeps going. He can’t tell if Louis notices how he keeps looking over every once and a while, stealing little glances, but he doesn’t really care, either. He’s never been one to deny himself of things he really enjoys. Life is too grim to deny himself pleasure.

 

 

**July 16 th , 2016**

“Liam, I know it’s stupid, but put Louis on the phone.”

“You’re the one who said not to give him any technology.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Honestly for the only person who could probably even challenge me in a fight, you sure are a lazy ass. Just call him if you don’t want to get up.” He hears a groan from the other end, then he hears the shuffling of a hand being put over the mouthpiece of the receiver and then a “ _Louis!”_

There’s silence on the other end before a “what?” in a snappy voice and Harry can’t help but laugh.

“Harry wants to talk to you.”

“Give him the phone, Liam.” He says, the eyeroll practically audible in his voice. He’s been out all night, right after he’d dropped Louis off with thai take out.

“Hello, curly, whatever was so dearly important that it couldn’t wait until we were face to face?”

“What is your preference of wine?” Louis is quiet for a long while, and Harry knows it’s because he’s stunned.

“What?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound annoyed, just confused.

“I mean.., um.” He clears his throat. “Like, I have a preference, obviously, and I’m gonna buy some to go with our dinner tonight if you want – because I want some – so.”

“I like red. Any brand.” He says, shy and quiet after a while. “Thanks.” And then there’s more shuffling and Liam is back on the line.

“I don’t understand you two. Have you fucked him yet?”

“Bye Liam.” He says with a laugh and hangs up the phone. He loves his second because he really is more than that – a best friend and more like family than anyone. He appreciates that little personal things like that can be discussed between them with Boss Harry forgotten – but when that dynamic needs to return, it can.

 

Louis is playing fifa on his bedroom telly when he gets inside. “How did you unlock my cabinet?”

“Um, you kept your key in your top drawer?”

“Right. Of course. I should have known.” Harry rolls his eyes. He thinks, for a moment, that Louis might have more control over him than he does over him sometimes, but it really doesn’t bother him.

“Are you ready to wine and dine me then, Styles?”

“Of course.” He says with a laugh. “Come on, then. I have take out.”

“Oh yes, you’re doing a wonderful job already.” It’s kind of – it’s shocking how sincere he sounds. He holds a hand out and Louis takes it, without any hesitancy.

 

Harrys still on his first glass, never having liked being intoxicated when he’s here, with the chance something could happen, but Louis’ nearly finished the bottle. It’s actually kind of cute, how he hiccups and giggles and he’s cuddling against Harry’s side in a way he never would have guessed Louis would.

The Godfather – ironically enough – is playing on the living room telly and everyone except the two of them are playing on their phones, obviously bored with watching a movie of the reality they live regularly. Louis is drifting in and out of sleep, but Harry – in a selfish little way – wants to wait until he falls all the way asleep so he can carry him to bed and make sure he’s safe.

It’s a rather weird feeling, feeling like he wants to be responsible for Louis. He’s never _wanted_ to be responsible for someone before. Louis is different, though; Louis changes everything.

 

He carries Louis off to bed about an hour later, after the first movie ends. He’s passed out entirely and his lips are stained red. He looks stunning in a way Harry’s never believed about any other person before. He wants – he wants something with Louis. Of course he does. But it’s too much. It’s too risky and it’s all not enough at the same time.

He lives a life so different from the small-town drama teacher. He can’t pull him into this.

It wouldn’t be right.

 

 

**July 17 th , 2016**

Louis comes into his room bright and early, complaining of a wine hangover. Harry groans and throws an arm over his face, then grabs a few pain relief tablets from his top drawer and hands them over to Louis.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is Louis to crawl in bed beside him. He doesn’t say anything about it, because all Louis does is go back to sleep, but he doesn’t sleep anymore after that.

 

It’s about two hours later when he’s up and getting ready for the rest of his day. There’s – supposedly – a snitch in his rings that he needs to go and have a discussion with. He’s not sure why anyone even thinks it’s a good idea to cross him at this point, but whatever the reason, he’ll deal with it.

He always does.

Louis stirs as he twists the last knot on his tie, but he doesn’t wake up. He decides to let him sleep in his bed, if for nothing other than the fact that he looks really good like that. It’s domestic – incredibly so – and Harry actually loves it. He wants more of it and that’s a thought that’s more dangerous than anything he’s had in a long while.

He shouldn’t be having these thoughts. They’re bad news and they’re only going to hurt him in the end but he’s always been good at falling in love too fast and hurting himself.

He closes the door quietly and heads out the door and starts his car up with the remote start. He’s not sure why he feels the need to – but he glances over to the window where he sleeps and sees Louis watching him. As soon as their eyes meet, Louis disappears, but it leaves a sad feeling in his chest.

He’s not even sure why.

But it does, and it doesn’t leave him all day.

 

He’s meeting up with the snitch – Kevin – at his apartment.

Perhaps meeting up isn’t the proper term, considering Zayn’s got a gun to his head, but, he likes to consider himself a gentleman. “So,” Harry says, crosses his legs while Kevin stays still. “I’ve heard a few things that really, really make me unhappy, Kevin. I know someone as smart as you wouldn’t have gone against me like this, hm?”

He’s shaking. Harry sighs.

“Because I really only hire smart young men, especially ones who are easy to scare and have a bit to lose, yeah?”

“Look – look um,”

“He wasn’t done.” Zayn says at Harry’s pointed look.

“So do tell me, what are these rumors of you being a snitch?” He looks at Harry for a moment, like he’s waiting for permission to speak and it’s actually almost funny. He makes a _go forward_ motion with his hands, giving him exactly that.

“Um,” He starts. “I really – like – I didn’t mean to I swear.” He’s got tears in his eyes, now, and Harry almost feels bad. Almost. He’ll have to hear the rest of the story first. “It was a kind of like, drunk, off hand comment to my best friend. I really didn’t – he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else!” He shakes his head and a few tears fall. “I didn’t even realize I’d told him something I was supposed to until he asked me about it when I was sober and then I denied it – I swear – and the rumors came because his fuck pal – Ed – I know you two are… close. Um. He over heard a few bits and bobs but –“ his breathing is labored. “Please don’t kill me.”

Harry rolls his eyes and motions for Zayn to put the gun down.

“All right. Here’s your choice then.” Harry says and Kevin’s eyes widen. No one ever really benefits from his choices. “Unnegotiable, you’re to sober up. If I send someone over here at any time and anyone finds you drunk or with any alcohol in your house, you’re dead.” He nods. “But now _someone_ has to die.” Harry shrugs. It’s only fair, afterall. “So who’s it going to be? You, or your friend?”

He can practically see the blood drain from the boys face. He can’t be any older than maybe eighteen – he’s a low rank and Harry’s never even seen him before, but any time a low rank has to meet face to face with him it’s serous.

“I don’t want to die.” He sobs out. “But my friend I can’t – I _can’t.”_

“Make your choice. I’m going to go make a tea.” Harry says and leaves Zayn there with the boy and goes to make his tea. Maybe it’s not fair. Maybe he shouldn’t fuck with a kid’s head so much. But he’s always done this – it’s just – it’s Louis. Louis is making this thread of humanity so much stronger within him and it’s overwhelming.

He doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He makes his tea and comes back out. The boy is crying harder. “Or,” Harry says and Zayn raises his eyebrows. Harry cracks his knuckles. “Since I do quite enjoy humiliation as punishment,” The boy grimices. “You can sell yourself to me. You work in one of my men’s compounds until you give me a man’s life worth of money. Which I’d consider about seventy thousand pounds. I’d give you a year.”

He winces.

“Boss please that’s – that’s the kind of money your uppers deal with. I don’t – I make like sixty pounds a day.” Another tear falls out.

“Oh, no. You’d not be selling. You’d be working for Alan.” Kevin chokes. “So you know him, then.”

“Kill my friend.” He sobs again and Harry shrugs.

“You heard the boy.” He says to Zayn. “Call him up and have him here in fifteen minutes, max.” The boy composes himself and gets his friend on the phone while Harry drinks his tea. He doesn’t feel bad anymore. The third offer – without any death – made him feel a bit better.

Maybe it was making him sell sex – but it was an offer. Not his problem. He doesn’t much like to think of those sources of his income, but sometimes they’re appropriate.

 

His friend comes through the door exactly twenty three mintues later and ends up with a bullet right between his eyes as soon as the door is closed behind him. Harry gives Kevin a pointed look as he walks out.

“You’re on my radar now, Kid. That’s not a good place to be. I suggest you behave.”

 

 

**July 18 th , 2017**

Harry hates Tuesdays.

He’s never exactly been able to perfectly pinpoint why, but he really, truly does. When he wakes up on Tuesdays, he’s almost always in a bad mood and ready to blow up on the first person to confront or bother him. So, when he was woken up by Louis’ hand smashing into the side of his face when he flopped over in his sleep, he wanted nothing more than to scream.

He wasn’t even entirely sure when or how Louis got into his room, actually. He was certain that he’d left the boy in his _own_ room the night before, slightly tipsy and a little more drunk on the feeling of adventure – but here he was, curled up with him and moving about in _his_ bed.

He sighs softly, though, and just turns over to try and sleep a bit longer. He hadn’t really noticed before, but Louis seems to be a restless sleeper. The sheets on his side of the bed are completely disheveled, tossed about and tangled around his feet. There’s a pillow that should be on the top of his bed near their feet instead, and judging by the cold skin against his calf, he’s pretty sure the man only has one sock on.

It’s endearing and it shouldn’t be.

Harry should be bitter and annoyed like he always is on Tuesday mornings, but instead, he feels like he’s in something of a good mood. “Mmhp,” Louis says from beside him, then sits up. Harry looks at him, his eyes are barely half open and he’s sure that he’s barely awake and will probably sleep again any moment, but he can’t help but watch him. “Time s’it?”

“Half nine.”

“Mm,” Then he’s laying back down, face smashed against the pillow as he lets the sleep take over once again. Harry watches him for a moment, then digs out some advil from the drawer beside his bed and takes two dry, then sets out two more in case Louis has any kind of a hang over, before he puts the bottle back away.

He lays back down, lets his head rest against the pillow, but sleep doesn’t come. Any other day, he’d fall back asleep easily, without a care in the world, but in that moment, he couldn’t. Louis was heavy on his mind.

Something about him was just so – incredible. He didn’t seem like he was afraid of him, he didn’t have the actions about him that everyone else did and maybe that was what made him so interesting. He couldn’t help but wonder – had he gone and bothered Zayn to get let into his room? Maybe he’d left the doors unlocked? Whatever it was, though, it was almost funny.

Never once had he met someone like Louis – someone so funny and interesting and _pretty._ Louis really was pretty in the way Harry could stare at for hours. He loved beautiful people and beautiful things alike – true works of nature.

Harry isn’t the type to fall hard or quickly or even at all – but Louis is different. Louis changes everything when he’s around. He’s loud and demands his attention and always makes sure he gets it. Something about that draws Harry to him in a way that he’s never once been drawn to another person and something about it makes him so, so attractive. Harry’s always thought there was a type that he had – a type of man that he would take to bed and only stick to one aesthetic. Tall and muscled and the kind that could hold him down if he wanted them to – but Louis changes that, too. He changes everything in such subtle ways that Harry didn’t notice until that moment when they all hit him, right in the face, all at the same time.

Louis stirred a bit but didn’t wake, and that was when Harry finally let the sleep take back over. It came slowly, but he didn’t even bother to deny that he dreamt of the same sea blue of Louis’ eyes.

 

“Are you leaving again today?” Louis asked from _his_ bed as Harry looped the cloth around to pull the material back into a perfect Windsor knot.

“Yeah. Have some people I need to talk to.”

“Can I go?”

“No.” Louis groaned and tossed an arm over his face and completed the little act with a groan. Harry, if nothing else, had learned over the last week that Louis was incredibly dramatic. He liked to be seen and liked even more to be the center of the attention in any room. Including when it was just the two of them. It worked just about every time on Harry, though, so he could see why he chose to do it. “Maybe later. I have some business I need to attend to, first.”

“Fine. I’ll get Zayn to entertain me.” Harry quirked an eyebrow, a little flare of jealousy blooming in his chest. It’s unnecessary and completely irrational for him to be jealous, especially since he knows that’s Louis’ intention, but he can’t help it. He’s grown attached to his blue eyed boy and the idea of him having to look to someone else to keep him company just because Harry denies him is almost – well - it makes him mad.

“Zayn’s coming with me, sweet heart.”

“No he’s not. I heard him and Liam say he wasn’t going anywhere ‘till his ribs were good again.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot Liam and Zayn were in charge around these parts.” A few different expressions went across Louis’ face until he settled with just annoyed.

“Whatever, Harry. Keep playing your fucking – power game, or whatever it is you’re playing. Were you even gonna take Zayn until I said something?” Then another expression comes over Louis’ face and the irritation spreads into a bit more of a smirk. “You’re _jealous?_ My, my, Styles. I didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“I’ve nothing to be jealous about.”

“Well of course you do. I can’t blame you, not wanting to share my company and all, but I do get rather lonely around here when no one is here.” Harry just sighs and shakes his head, tucks a white cloth into his breast pocket to contrast the stark black of that day’s suit, and then turns back to Louis.

“If I let Zayn stay, I don’t have to take you out anywhere tonight.”

“Sure, maybe you don’t have to, but you will anyway.” Harry just glares, but Louis is grinning because he knows he’s right. Harry is far too gone for this boy than he cares to admit, and he’s even worse off for his own good. It’s too much, too scary, too _wrong_ in his field of work to love or like or even _care for._

It’ll get Louis killed and he knows he could love Louis, one day. Not now, and probably not even any time soon, but he could – and it’s that that his enemies will feed on. They’ll watch him and observe how their love could grow and watch as Harry learns to care for him more and more and only when Harry is entirely invested would they strike. He knows this much too well – it’s the same reason his father had to leave his mother shortly after he was born.

He doesn’t say anything else to Louis, instead he just walks out the door and closes it behind himself. He doesn’t lock it, but that’s not a secret. Louis knows he’s free to walk about the house now.

“Why are you dressed?” He asks Zayn who’s sitting at the kitchen table, shoving spoonfulls of porridge in his mouth much too quickly. He swears that boy doesn’t eat enough but when he does, he can put away more food than Harry could in a week. It’s impressive.

“Cause – I’m going.” He says and that makes Liam’s head snap to look over at him. His second is sitting at the island in the kitchen, reading a news article from his phone. He knows it’s not his decision, so he doesn’t say anything, but Harry quirks an eyebrow anyway.

“Alright, sure. If you can run to the front door, touch it, then all the way back here without wincing, you can come.”

“I’ve got three broken ribs you knob.” Zayn says and his eyes widen – like he realizes that he’s just called the most dangerous man in England a knob. But Harry doesn’t take it personally.

“That would be the exact reason you’re not coming. You’re a liability. If I’m giving any bodies space in my car, they’re going to be bodies I don’t have to protect. You’d need protecting, yes?” Zayn’s mouth screws to the side, and then he shrugs.

“I guess so, yeah.”

“So no, you’re not going.” Harry pretends he doesn’t see the relieved look on Liam’s face and instead just focuses on Zayn’s seemingly irritated one. “And if you have any problems with that, I don’t want to hear it. Wipe that asshole look off your face and be grateful I’m not making you get your ass out on the streets right now, either. I’m pulling your weight for you until you get better, so don’t let me hear _shit_ about how much you don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry, Boss.” Zayn says, then, and he looks genuinely guilty.

“You’re on Louis duty today.” Harry says and Zayn doesn’t react. He doesn’t respond or even acknowledge it - and that makes Harry mad all over again. He thinks, maybe, it’s because it’s Tuesday. He didn’t have his chance to be upset and cranky early in the morning so it’s coming out now instead. “Do you need to be reminded how you’re to respect me, Zayn?” The dark haired boy takes a deep breath, and then he sighs.

“No, Boss. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fuck up again today. Sorry won’t cut it again. You’re watching Louis today, and then I want this shit cleaned up. Crippled or not, I don’t care if you do it or someone else does. It’s to be done before we get back at five or it’s your ass. Got it?”

“Yes, Boss.” He says this time, and Harry’s satisfied enough with that. He doesn’t say a word to Liam, but when he makes towards the front door, his second knows to follow. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in a bad mood, or maybe it’s just the fact that he is in charge, but he knows. Harry’s stopped wondering what makes his people do what they do for a long time.

“Harry – can I ask you something?”

“Stop asking me that, Liam. You can talk to me whenever in not in my office.” Liam sighs softly, then he stops before either of them are in the car. Harry stops too, crosses his arms over his chest and looks at Liam.

It’s then that he notices the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his knuckles. He looks like Hell.

“Why are you in such a mood today? Zayn didn’t – he didn’t deserve to get his ass chewed that bad. I know it’s Tuesday and I know you’re always in shitty moods on Tuesdays, but, what the fuck?”

“I said you could _ask_ me something, Liam. What I said was true, he just didn’t want to hear it.” Liam shakes his head and Harry raises his eyebrows. “Is there something wrong with that? Did I forget some kind of social expectation that I’m nice to the people who work for me? Did I miss the memo where I have to take _any_ shit from anyone? Because the last I checked, Liam, I don’t care if you two are fucking. I care that he does what he’s told and I care that he brings me what I expect at the end of every week.”

“You don’t – “ Liam clenches his fists. He’s so clearly mad, and it actually amuses Harry. Maybe he’s in the mood to just piss everyone off, to make them all feel the same confusion he’s feeling. “You don’t even know what’s going on in his life, H. How can you just – simplify him to that?”

“He’s a new jump, Liam. Why the fuck would I treat him any differently than any other new jump?”

“Because he’s our friend, H. I know you like him. He’s a part of our group – you can’t deny that.”

“Fucking Hell, Liam. If he wants to give me a sob story and tell me why he’s in such a shit mood, he can. I’m not letting you use your power with me to defend him.” Liam seems to take this in for a moment, but then he nods. Harry finally gets in the car, and when he turns his head he sees the curtain in his bedroom shift just a bit, like someone had been holding it back and watching. He doesn’t pay any mind to it, though. He knows Louis likes to watch.

 

He and Liam drive downtown to meet up with one of the pimps that Harry had been watching over. It’s the shady side of business that Harry hates getting involved in, and he knows he wouldn’t if it didn’t have so much power in the city. There are some things that are just beyond his control at this point, so he just tries to accept it as it is.

They’re meeting in a restaurant – public and visible as per the man’s request – and Harry can’t help the laugh as they pull into the parking space and step out. London is loud, buzzing with life from every angle and it’s distracting. He thinks he hears an excited scream from somewhere in the background, and when he turns he sees two girls wrapped up in each other in a tight embrace.

He likes to watch people, but now’s not the time.

“Reservation under Hemmings.” Liam says to the hostess, and Harry just follows behind silently. He’s feeling the place out – trying to feel if there’s any kind of threat the two of them should be on the lookout for. He doesn’t see any cops, and he doesn’t see anyone he recognizes beyond Luke sitting at the back table and typing something away on his phone.

“Sir.” He says when Harry makes his presence known with a louder footstep. “Liam.” He acknowledges the both of them and only then do they sit. It’s simple conduct, manners when they’re dealing with higher ranks and his street runners, but it’s important. Harry has a very refined taste for how his runners treat him; he has to be sure they don’t get cocky, they have to remember that they’re below him in this life.

“So, what happened with Sasha?” He asks, right off the bat. Luke tenses, but then he clears his throat.

“Well, um, she was out. Like every other night – and then she missed curfew. None of my girls miss curfew – especially not the ones who’ve been with me as long as Sasha had been. It was – it was weird. So I knew right away that something was off with that. So, Mike and I went out to look for her.” He’s rambling, but his hands are shaking. Harry can tell he’s nervous, so he’s not going to say anything about it. He’s got time. “All of them have to text me their locations every time they go anywhere, both because of safety and because I want to know where they are. So, we went to the motel she’d last been checked in at, and we found um,” A pause. “She hung herself.”

“Right. And you didn’t dispose of her body.”

“I –“ He looks, for a moment, like he’s going to defend himself. But it was a fact, not a question. “No, I didn’t.”

“So, because of your carelessness, we now have police investigating your business, do we not?”

“Yes, there’ve been a few officers around. But –“

“But? Did I ask for an explanation?” He pales and Liam chuckles. The two of them had always found it somewhat amusing to watch how his runners get afraid so easily.

“No. Sorry.”

“Explain, then.” This seems to confuse the blond boy further, but after a moment, he speaks.

“But from Ed, all I’ve heard is that they’re considering her a prostitute who just couldn’t handle it. They’re deeming it as a suicide and if he’s right, they’re closing the case by Friday.” Ed handled their papers and their tracks. He was their – insider, so to say. An officer who’d become an accidental dad of twins and realized he needed more money than his paycheck dished out. It had taken Harry years to trust him, but now when he was brought up, his information was trusted.

Harry leaned forward on his elbows, dangerously close to Luke’s figure. The other man’s body language screamed fear and distrust, but Harry was so relaxed that he knew it was hard for any possible on-lookers to consider it too suspicious. “I sincerely hope, for your sake, that Ed is right. Because if this investigation leads to even a single arrest, you’ll have to explain yourself to me. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry sat back.

“Now I understand that Mike is usually the one who delivers me my money, but since you’re here today, did you think to bring it?”

“Uh –“

“No? Shame.” Harry says with a shrug. “That’s all right. Just tell Mike I expect cash in my hand a bit earlier today.” Luke nods a few times and his hands are still trembling. “For a pimp, you sure do scare easily, don’t you?”

“Harry, play nice.” Liam says and he glances over to his second. “Michael is still in charge, yes?”

“Oh – um. Yes.” Luke says softly. He’s less intimidated of Liam, Harry notes, but that fear is still there. He thinks it might be his physique. Liam looks the part – big, burly muscles that bulge the material of his sleeves and strong jawline and sharp looks. Harry, though, is a different story. He’s soft curls and boyish features and a strong voice. He doesn’t look the part, so people tend to push him to the limits to see what he’ll really do. He remembers well when Luke had first arrived and Michael had yelled at him. Harry broke his jaw and told him if he ever raised his voice at him again he’d cut his tongue out.

“I suspect he’s the one who controls the money, then, hm?” Liam asks again. His voice is soft – but Harry knows the game he’s playing. It’s hard and mean and somewhat cruel. It’s a mind game they save only for their runners, just to remind them their place. Especially when they’ve made a mess.

“Yes.”

“A real shame, innit, H? Micheal must have lost his touch. He really doesn’t much know how to run a ring here, if what Luke is saying is true. He doesn’t have that common sense to put two and two together.”

“Wait, what?” Luke’s eyes are wide.

“Should probably have a little discussion with him.” Harry says and Liam nods his agreement.

“Wait – you – I. He shouldn’t – I didn’t say I’d bring it. It’s not his fault.”

“That’s the thing you need to learn, Luke. If you ever want to get anywhere in this business, that mind set needs to dissolve.” Harry says, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t call the shots. Those above you do. You don’t defend those above you. That’s not your job, and it’ll get you killed. You defend yourself and watch your own back.”

“Now, why didn’t you bring Harry his money?” Liam asks again.

“B-because Micheal didn’t tell me to.”

“Good.” Harry says with a grin. “You’ll do well like that, kid. Keep that in mind.” He can tell exactly how shaken the man is, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. Instead, the three of them sit there to avoid suspicion.

Eventually, Liam and Harry slip into easy conversation and Luke sits in silence. They all eat something and Liam opts for a bottle of red, while Harry stays with water. He doesn’t drink in public, doesn’t let his guard fail him like that.

It’s barely an hour before they’ve all left.

 

When Harry returns, it’s half four. Zayn and Louis are sat on the couch, Louis with a video game controller in his hand, playing some kind of shooting game, while Zayn plays on his phone. It seems like the air between the two of them is somewhat thick, still, and Harry wants to yell at Zayn. He wants to get angry at him for making Louis feel uncomfortable. But then, before their presence is really known, Louis hands the controller off to Zayn and he picks up and plays easily. It seems like they’re taking turns with each death, and it’s actually – well, it’s actually a bit endearing.

“You’ve got a staring problem, mate.” Louis says and his eyes meet with Harry’s for a brief moment. Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Brat.” Then he goes to the couch and flicks Louis in the head. “This all you did all day?”

“Not all day. Niall and I played some cards for a bit, but other than that, yeah.” Harry nods in acknowledgement.

“I’m gonna shower.” Louis nods and Harry takes that as his time to leave, then he walks off to the bathroom. He’s tired for some reason. Something about the day has just managed to rain him worse than the last of the few days. He turns the water on and drapes two towels from beneath the sink over the rod on the wall, then looks at himself in the mirror.

His hair has gotten longer, past the point where his father would have made him cut it off, but just long enough that he enjoys it. The curls hang just at his shoulders and frame his face in a way that makes him look soft. He likes it like that, sometimes. Sometimes he likes to look soft, even when he’s such a bad person.

Those thoughts, though, he can’t let himself think. So he climbs into the shower and lets the hot water scold his skin as it washes the dirt and stress from the day away. It’s quiet other than the soft thrumming of the water against the plastic floor of the shower, and the steam envelops him, helps him breathe a bit more clearly, helps him wind down.

He needs a wank. It’s been too long and he’s too wound up and with Louis sleeping in his bed he hasn’t really been able to have a real, good wank since he’d gotten here. So, he wraps a firm, wet hand around his cock, just to feel that moment of pressure and tight grip before he slowly starts thrusting his fist. His eyes fall shut and he leans back against the wall, hips bucking into the grip of his hand a few times.

He’s so close – right on that edge of falling into his orgasm. Then, “Harry?” He startles and nearly slips on the wetness below him, but catches himself against the wall.

“Louis. I’m – I’m _showering.”_ He says, voice a bit high and breathless. He hopes Louis doesn’t know what he was really doing, but the little menace probably does.

“I know.” He hears the shuffling, and then there’s the click of the toilet seat being put down and – is Louis really sitting in here with him? “Everyone left so I got lonely.”

“You got. Lonely.” He repeats. “So you decided to come in here while I’m showering.”

“Yes.” Harry can’t help but laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly. Louis is really something else.

“Care to join me, then?” Harry asks and it’s entirely a joke, but Louis, of course, is really something Harry can’t even comprehend and takes it seriously. Harry’s not an intimate person, really, he can’t afford to be. But with Louis – he can see himself being. He can see himself sharing showers and being cute in the mornings and doing all of the things that he knows are supposed to be forbidden for him to do. It’s – it’s a contradiction.

“Sure.” Louis says and Harry’s body tenses up for a second. His cock is still hard, curving up towards his stomach and he can hear Louis stripping himself of his clothing and – well, he’s fucked. He can feel his body getting warm from embarrassment, rather than the water. “Oh.” Louis says as soon as he steps through the threshold of the shower. Harry’s still frozen and he wills his cock not to twitch under Louis’ hard gaze.

Louis steps closer and Harry feels his heart rate pick up, just like that, just being in the proximity of a naked Louis.

“Do you want some help with that, love?” Louis has this air of dominance to his tone that makes Harry feel a bit weak in his knees, but he keeps his composure.

“Do you want to help?” Harry responds, keeping his voice from wavering. He wants to say yes, yes, yes, yes _please_ – wants Louis to touch him and ground him and make him feel whole again – but he can’t. Louis doesn’t respond with words, but instead wraps a hand around his cock and runs his thumb over his slit. Harry licks his lips and holds eye contact with Louis.

“You’re so pretty.” Louis says and Harry’s face suddenly feels warmer. A smirk plays at Louis lips and then he’s moving his hand quicker, chasing Harry back to that point of orgasm and making breathless little moans fall from his lips. His hips are moving with his thrusts, mouth hung open in bliss and he’s _right there –_ then Louis stops.

“Fucking – _hell.”_ Harry practically growls, and Louis is still smirking. He’s hard now, too, and his cock is beautiful. That’s something Harry never thought he’d say about a dick – but it’s long and thick and the head is shiny with precome and he really wants to touch.

“If you want to come you have to make me come, first.” Harry shouldn’t be showing this slightly submissive side of himself. Not yet. He rarely shows it to anyone and the men he does show it to are one night stands from towns hundreds of kilometers away. He can’t resist Louis, though. He brings down all of his walls and completely destroys and boundaries that he knows he needs to keep up, but he can’t.

“Can I eat you out?” Louis sucks in a sharp breath, but then nods. Harry falls to his knees and Louis turns around, leans up against the wall and – fuck. He’d assumed all along that Louis had a nice bum, but seeing it right in front of him is an entirely different feeling. It’s round and thick and _perfect_ and he can’t wait to get his tongue in him.

“Yeah. Yeah. Go ‘head.” He spreads apart Louis’ cheeks with his thumbs and his cock twitches at his little, content sigh. Then he licks a stripe right from his balls over his hole and places his hands at Louis’ thighs, feeling them shake and tremble under his hold.

By the time he’s finished with Louis’ his entire body is shaking as he comes with a shout over the tiles of the walls and has to rest there, panting, for a moment. Eventually, Louis turns around and smiles up at Harry before the two of them are wrapped around each other, right beneath the stream of water.

They have a real shower, too. Harry washes Louis’ hair and kisses him a few times, just because that barrier has finally been broken, so he _can._ “I want to wash your hair, too.” Louis says and Harry rolls his eyes, but it’s a fond action.

“You’re a bit short for that, Lou.” Louis just pouted, though, and Harry laughed again. They compromise and Louis ended up lathering some soap over Harry’s back. It was wonderful.

 

Louis falls asleep on Harry’s bed – again – as soon as they’re out of the shower. It’s endearing and Harry wants to sleep beside him once again, but it’s been decided that tonight’s a poker night. He, Zayn, Niall, Liam, Mitch, and Ed typically play every other Monday – but since something had come up for three of them the previous day, they moved it to tonight.

He pulled the blanket up over Louis’ sleeping form and then flicked the light off as he walked out of the room. He didn’t lock the doors this time – with enough trust in Louis that if he woke up, he’d come and try and find them instead of try and leave.

With two cases of beer in hand from the refrigerator, he made his way down to the basement where Liam had the table all set up and the cards were being shuffled. “Hey, H! We thought you weren’t going to make it for a second.” Niall says with a smile. He doesn’t say it with any kind of sneer or malice in his voice so Harry just smiles back.

“Got caught up in something. Who’s got first deal?” Niall wiggles his eyebrows and then sets out two cards in front of everyone, face down. “Texas Hold ‘em? You guys feeling lazy tonight?”

“Shut up, H. Just cause you suck at this form doesn’t mean you get to complain.” Liam said and they both laughed.

“Oh yeah? Put your money where your mouth is, Payno.” Liam just rolled his eyes and Harry laughed again. He knows good and well that he is complete shit at Texas Hold ‘Em, but he wouldn’t admit that, not to anyone.

He only put five pounds down, though, so that was his sly way of admitting how terrible he was at the game without really having to admit it. With the ace, nine, and queen as the three cards in the center, he knew he wasn’t going to win this round, but he also refused to fold on a first hand. It was a pride thing, really, but it was also because he liked to see what could happen.

When a four was placed down next, he folded his hand.

Zayn won the first round with a near perfect straight and everyone threw their pound notes off at him. It was all in good fun, really.

 

Harry was nicely buzzed an hour or so later. He was also almost one hundred pounds lighter in his wallet than he had been in the beginning of the night, even though he’d managed to win one out of the eight games they’d played. Then there was the sound of footsteps from the stairs and everyone looked to see Louis as he made his way down.

“Hi.” He said and Harry smiled.

“Hey.”

“Poker?”

“Yeah. Wanna play?”

“I don’t have anything to bet.”

“I bet H would let that slide if you put a pot on each pair of clothes you have on.” Liam said with a throaty laugh. He was much more of a lightweight than the rest of them and he was pissed already. Harry didn’t deny it though, just looked at Louis while the other boys laughed.

“Oi, I don’t want to be the only one stripping!” He paused. “Why not just play a game of strip, then?”

“There aren’t any birds here.” Niall said with a furrowed eyebrow. “Just cause you all have it out for dick doesn’t mean I do.” Harry laughed at that, too. He knew Niall was straight – he’d known that from the beginning – but it was still somewhat funny every time he brought up the fact that neither he, Liam, nor Zayn were.

“It’s just a game, Niall.” Louis said and the blond boy pouted.

“All right, fine.”

So, in the end, Harry and Liam wound up almost completely naked. Harry was down to his pants and Liam his socks and his pants. Louis stayed fully clothed the entire time and Harry swears there was a smirk on his face the entire time.

 

 

**July 19 th , 2017**

 “All right.” Harry says. “Tell me about your university days, then. You and Zayn are the only two here who’ve been through it, so I’m curious.”

“Well um – honestly? It was kind of boring. I studied a lot and partied a lot and drank a lot. Never did anything too stupid though.” He says with a laugh. “I stripped for like, the first two years in secret. Then my mum found out and tore me a new one and I had to quit.” They laugh at that for a little bit, until Louis is asking him a new question.

“What do you do in your free time?”

“I like to run. Working out is always nice for me. Sometimes I offer to walk people’s dogs. I really love dogs.”

“Do you ever think about leaving all of this?” Harry’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t want to answer that one.”

“Okay.” Louis says and sighs. “I think I’m just going to nap, then.”

He’s not entirely sure why Louis’ mood falls so quickly and so incredibly. But when it does, he decides to just leave him alone. He lets him stay in his room and watch movies, but it leaves an aching feeling in his chest. He heads out and goes to his office.

It’s three hours before Louis comes into his office and taps his arm. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something? It’s kind of – it’s stupid and you’re gonna say no but I just.”

“Well if I’m going to say no, that’s the worst that can happen if you ask then, hm?” Louis shrugs. He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to joke around. “I’m sorry. You can ask.”

“Can I… can I just go on my facebook page for a minute? You can watch me or whatever. I just. I want to see if my friends and family are okay.” Harry gives him a funny look and sighs softly.

“Yeah, all right. Go grab a chair from the kitchen. You can use this computer.” He lights up – not a lot but even just a little bit is enough to make Harry feel a little better.

Louis opens it up and Harry watches him, just making sure he’s not making a status or sending messages to any of his friends. All he does, though, is look down his timeline and over his own profile. There are six posts from friends saying they’re praying he’s okay. And one with a picture of him and _missing_ pasted over the top.

He closes out the screen and gets up silently.

Harry hears the shower turn on and pretends he can’t hear him crying.  

**July 20 th , 2017**

Harry hates to admit that he can’t be in charge of everything. He also very, very much hates to admit that he’s not in charge of Louis. Not in the way that he should be, at least. So when the boy harasses him, repeatedly, until Harry allows him to go on his morning run with him, Louis walking and not running was the very last thing he expected.

“I thought you said you enjoyed running?” Harry asked with a quirked eyebrow. Louis just shot him a look, but didn’t really respond. It pushed Harry’s buttons just a bit, but maybe Louis’ idea was decent. He enjoyed walking sometimes, but that was really only when he needed to clear his – oh. Louis just needed to clear his head, it seemed.

Things had been hard yesterday, he could tell. He could see the emotional toll that yesterday had taken on him and he wasn’t going to push too roughly if Louis just needed a moment to calm himself down and not be overwhelmed.

“I lied a little.” Louis says with a sigh. “I just needed to get out, I guess. It feels nice to be outside.”

"Yeah.” Harry says and sighs, unsure what else there is to say to that. He doesn’t know what Louis must be going through, but he doesn’t really know how to make it seem like he’s trying to understand, either. “If you um,” Harry clears his throat. This is really, really stupid. “If you would like to go, my sister is throwing a little welcoming party to her new house. If you’d like to go with me and pose as my date, you can. If you’d like to just… get out for a while.” He doesn’t realize how terrible the offer sounds until it’s already out of his mouth – it sounds like he’s only letting Louis out for his own benefit, like he’s some kind of doll he can drag about.

Louis looks at him with furrowed eyebrows and a skeptical look. He certainly doesn’t look happy, but Harry really can’t blame him. “If I go with you, can I go see my mum?” His voice seems hopeful, and Harry knows he really can’t turn that down. Even if he wanted to.

“Where does she live?” Harry sighs out and he has no clue why he’s doing this – why he’s being so kind to Louis.

“Doncaster.” It’s not a far drive at all from where his sister lives and he can’t help but sigh heavily.

“Yeah. I suppose. But only your mum, okay? And you’re going to have to come back with me.” Louis seems content with that and the rest of their walk is spent in silence.

It gives Harry time to think, though, because he’s there – right beside Louis and he can’t think of much else other than him. He’s got such a strong personality and so much about him is admirable in ways that Harry can only wish to be.

 

When they get back, Louis goes straight to his bedroom and closes the door behind himself, and Harry lets him go. He just sighs and makes himself a cup of tea before getting on his laptop. Emails are unread and business untended, so he knows he has a morning full of things to do.

Eventually, Liam comes in and nudges him. “Hey, Boss.”

“Yes?”

“It’s the 20th. Aren’t you collecting today?” He sighs and nods. He’d forgotten, really, so bless Liam for being there to remind him.

“Oh, yeah. Shit. We can all meet up downstairs at six tonight.”

“Alright. You … feeling all right?”

“I’m going to Gemma’s tomorrow.” He says with a sigh. “Pretty sure my mum is going to be there, too.” Liam sits down, then, and focuses all of his attention on Harry. Harry knows that Liam appreciates it when he opens up because it really is a rare occasion. He doesn’t like to tell anyone anything, and when he does, it’s something that’s really bothering him.

“They miss you, H. I’m sure it’ll do you all some good to see them for a bit.”

“I know. I just put it off so long that it seems a little late, now, and I just know they’re all going to ask for explanations.”

“It’s going to be okay. If you want, Zayn and I can follow and make sure everything stays calm?” These are the reasons he loves Liam and trusts him with everything he has.

“Yeah, actually that would be really nice.” Liam nods.

“I’ll see you downstairs at six.” Harry nods and lets Liam go.

 

Six o’clock rolls around before he knows it and there are about twenty people crowded into his basement. Normally, they’d play a game of poker or kick back over a pint, but Harry’s really just – he’s too wound up and not at all in the mood.

Zayn goes first, as usual, since he’s the newest. He’s the newest and the most likely to not be able to turn over, so he comes up first and hands harry his envelope. Harry counts it out and nods to Zayn in approval. Mike comes up next, and he has a pretty significant amount like always, which is always nice. He doesn’t give Mike anything except permission and protextion, but he gets his fill from it and it’s satisfying. Everyone else comes up and no one is short, so he hands everyone back their cuts – 10% usually – and takes the rest for himself and Liam.

“All right everyone, no parties tonight. Everyone except Zayn needs to leave.” Zayn tenses up and it’s not the usual tense he gets in his body from the pain in his ribs, but rather it’s the instinctual tense of fear. Guilt.

“Yes, boss?” Zayn asks as soon as the door is closed behind the last person. It’s Liam, who looks back and has concern painted all over his face, but Harry doesn’t pay any attention to that.

“Sit down. You’re still injured, yeah?”

“Well, yeah – but.” He’s still standing and Harry shoots him a look that makes him sit down immediately.

“I know Liam’s been helping you out – helping you meet your quotas.” Zayn looks down the ground. “Neither of you are in trouble, obviously, I get my money. But, we are going to have to talk about this.”

“It’s –“ Zayn freezes. “It’s harder for me, now, I guess. Because a lot of my regulars found others when I was gone. They thought I went in, and now they’re all scared to really come to me. Think I might be wired or summat.” He shakes his head. “A lot of them don’t understand how being in your inner circle works, so they don’t really believe my when I tell them Harry Styles let me sit on his couch f’ a week without any pay.” Harry actually can’t help but laugh at that. He can imagine.

“How much did you actually manage to sell, then?”

“About eight… so Liam didn’t really – he’s not covering that much. I told him I’d pay him back, you know? But he just…”

“He looks out for you, Zayn. Appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” Zayn sighs softly. “If you want me to pay you the two I didn’t get myself, I understand, really. I’ll just… I’ll figure it out.”

“No, it’s all right. I’m just not giving you ten thousand worth this time. You’ll get eight thousand worth, since you can manage that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Zayn says and he smiles. “Thank you for – I don’t know. Being nice. To me.”

“Don’t get too used to it. But next time this happens, let me know before it gets to this point.”

“Yes, Boss. I will.”

 

It’s late and Harry should be sleeping, but instead he’s playing some stupid game on his tablet. He swipes three more blocks of the same color together and watches as they disappear and three more fall to replace them, and then he hears his bedroom door open and sees a sleepy looking Louis standing there.

“Hi.” Louis says softly and comes and climbs in bed right beside Harry. It should feel wrong and unnatural and weird that Louis feels comfortable enough around him to do that, but it doesn’t. It feels normal and perfectly fine.

“Hi.” He responds and lets Louis get under the blanket with him.

“Do I need to borrow some of your clothes for tomorrow? Since all I have are jumpers and jeans.”

“No, it’s um. We’ll stop by a shop and buy you something nice.” Louis nods and it’s quiet for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Like, in my head I kind of just made you out to be like… I don’t know – like this typical TV mobster I guess and I just. I wanted to say I’m sorry because you’re not like – you have a family and stuff and I didn’t even take that into consideration because I just made you out to be this monster and you’re really not. I actually kind of like you a bit, which is weird, but I do.” He pauses for a moment. “And you make me feel oddly comfortable. Which is weird, right? Of course it is.” He laughs awkwardly and Harry wants to say something but he doesn’t really know what to say. “But um. Yeah.”

“Thanks for telling me that, Lou. You make me comfortable, too, and I do like you quite a bit as well.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course.” Harry’s not sure why it seems like such an obvious answer, especially since Louis had just told him he thought of him as a monster before, but he’s so certain that he’s comfortable with Louis there in the end that none of that even matters.

“Tell me about your family.”

“I don’t know much. I haven’t seen them in a while, sadly.”

“Tell me what you do know, then.”

“Well I have one sister, Gemma. She just got married a few years ago and has a son, James. He’s – I saw him for the first time the other day. He’s great. My mum and dad divorced when I was little, because of this business and the lies and everything that comes with it, so she remarried to a nice man named Robin. My mum’s the sweetest woman ever, though, and I love her to death.” He sighs. “I miss all of them dearly.”

“What’s keeping you from them?”

“Like I said, I love them. If I drag them into this… or even just let someone who doesn’t like me become aware that I care about them, they could all be dead within a few weeks. It’s hard because I want to see them all the time, but I love them enough to know I can’t.” Louis is quiet for a while. “Tell me about yours?”

“I’m the oldest of seven, actually.” He says with a grin. “My mum had me when she was really young, just fresh out of her A-Levels, and put everything on hold to raise me, so we kind of became best friends.” He pauses. “Then Lottie was born a few years later to her first remarried husband. She’s great. Her and my mum are both my absolute best friends.” Harry can see on his face how much it hurts him to talk about it and not be able to see them, but he isn’t sure what to say. “My mum just had twins, actually. Little babies, and I miss them an awful lot, too. I love babies so, so much.”

“You have to, yeah? To be a teacher.”

“Oh, yeah. Kids have always been a massive passion of mine. I just think they’re wonderful. A little less wonderful when they’re in secondary school like I teach, but still great.” He says with a laugh. “I love my family a lot. And I really do appreciate that you’re taking me to see them. I guess I just have to understand your view point, here. I’m – money – or whatever right now, yeah? So, thank you for letting me outside and being so kind to me.”

“You could leave right now, Louis. At first I didn’t – I didn’t care. I didn’t want to let you know that of course, but I was just. I don’t know. But I do care a lot about your well being now and I just. If you don’t want to come back with me, you don’t have to. Your father really doesn’t owe me that much money, it’s certainly not worth your happiness.”

“I’ll come back with you. It’s completely stupid that I want to, but I don’t think Niall would take the news well that he wouldn’t be seeing me again.” Harry isn’t sure why he appreciates that so much, but when he sees Louis’ genuine smile, he isn’t sure what to do other than match it.

 

Sometime during the night, Louis wraps his arms around him and Harry sleeps comfortably.

 

 

**July 21 st , 2016**

Harry wakes up hard.

It’s a weird feeling, mostly because it hasn’t happened since he was a teenager, but it’s even worse because Louis’ bum is pressed right against his cock and it’s uncomfortable. There haven’t been many times Harry has shared his bed with anyone – especially if that someone isn’t there for him to just fuck and then kick out – so maybe his body just isn’t sure how to react.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he tries to figure out what to do.

Louis’ breaths are even and slow, obviously from how deep in sleep he is, and Harry thinks that this should be his chance to escape. He wants to escape. But then again – why should he? This is _his_ bedroom, after all.

It’s like – he shouldn’t be ashamed of his bodily functions and he certainly shouldn’t be awkward about the fact that he got hard when a pretty boy slept pressed against him because that’s totally natural and he just – he’s not ashamed.

Well, until Louis shifts a bit in his sleep and his heart rate picks up even more and things get a little more interesting.

A little noise comes from Louis’ throat and suddenly Harry is actually ready to die. It doesn’t really sound like the kind of whine that means he’s aware that Harry’s cock is pressed against him – but it still sounds like the kind that means that his consciousness is coming back to him and it makes Harry’s head spin just a bit.

“Good mor - oh.” Is what Louis says first and Harry is ready to die.

“Sorry um – “ His face is flaming hot – his cheeks are burning and he’s about to run screaming.

“Are you really embarrassed?”

“I mean – uh. Yeah.”

“Who would have thought I would get _the_ Harry styles speechless. I wouldn’t have.” It’s not fair that Louis is this competent so shortly after waking up. It’s also not fair that he’s making Harry more turned on.

“I’m gonna go um,”

“No, stay.” Harry isn’t sure what it is – perhaps the tone of his voice or maybe just the way he seems so certain – but it grounds him. “You know, I think you’re really attractive, H.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Hm? I never would have guessed you thought so.” Louis has some stubble on his cheeks – just enough to show that he shaved last night and it’s grown back in this morning – and it’s incredibly attractive. The first week or so, he’d watched as Louis’ facial hair grew in, but with seeing him in various different levels of facial hair, he thinks this might be his favorite.

“Are you teasing me?” Harry says and quirks an eyebrow and watches as a smirk comes to Louis’ face.

“Me? Never.” He’s laughing a bit, then, and leans in close to Harry’s face. “I really would like to kiss you. But I think we should brush our teeth first.”

“You’re probably right.” Harry says with a pout, but he knows Louis’ right. It’ll be better if they didn’t taste like morning breathe. “Let’s go.”

So they both climb out of bed and head to the bathroom. Harry pretends that Louis isn’t eyeballing him the entire time.

 

They don’t go right back to bed.

Instead, Louis gets in the shower and Harry goes to his office. It’s all a bit anti-climactic and he’s half hard still by the time he settles down into his office chair and hears what he assumes is Louis singing in the shower. 

He broods until his stomach starts growling at noon.

 

Louis is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea steaming right beside him and he has one of Harry’s suit shirts on and he looks incredible. His hair is clearly wisped up in a way that’s meant to appear lazy and un-done but to Harry’s trained eye he can tell he actually spent some time making it look that way. He’s reading a book – one with a well bent spine and puppy-ear marked pages from how many times Harry has read it – and Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest.

“It’s about time you came out.” Louis says with a smile. “I thought you were hiding, cause you were embarrassed or something.”

“Of what?”

“Because like, I clearly was trying to be all um, sexual when you didn’t want that. But you didn’t have to hide. It’s okay if you just want to say no.”

“What I –“ Harry’s face feels hot again. “I thought _you_ were hiding.” Louis quirks an eyebrow and stands. He leaves his tea as he grabs both of Harry’s hands and presses him back against a wall.

Harry’s pulse picks up again.

“Well, I’m glad we cleared all of that nonsense up.” Louis says with a grin. “Because I’d quite like to kiss you now.” Harry nods and pulls Louis towards the bedroom.

 

Louis is an incredible kisser. His lips are soft and full and his tongue moves against Harry’s in the kind of way that has him whining high in his throat. Louis is straddling his hips, using on hand to hold one of Harry’s wrists down above his head.

He’s not even sure if he’s aware he’s doing it, but it’s making Harry’s cock throb and he wants nothing more than to act on his teenager-eque urges and grind up into Louis.

He doesn’t though. Even when Louis’ lips leave his own and move to suck marks on his neck.

It starts with gentle kisses over his pulse point that turn into curious little licks before his teeth are nipping at the skin and Harry’s so hard he’s straining against his trousers.

“That looks uncomfortable.” Louis says with a light, airy chuckle. Harry glares at him.

“You’re welcome to get on with it any time, you know.” Louis laughs again and looks up at Harry through long eyelashes and he almost comes just from that. He feels like a teenager all over again just being around Louis – it’s overwhelming and unfair and he doesn’t know what to do with these feelings. He doesn’t know how he should or even really how he wants to feel about the flips and flops that the older boy makes his stomach do.

Louis positions himself so he’s between Harry’s legs as he pulls the material of his trousers away, then tosses them somewhere else in the bedroom. “No pants?” His cock slaps up against his stomach and his toes curl as Louis eyes over him. It’s not judgemental sounding – but it still makes the tips of Harry’s ears feel warm and a blush creep on his face. The idea of being watched has always made his face warm, made his stomach twist.

Louis seems to get this pretty quickly as one of his eyebrows curls up, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have a whole lot of patience to work with that, considering the obvious bulge in his own trousers.

He moves so he’s closer to Harry’s stomach, then, and grabs both of their cocks in both of his hands and – _fuck._ It’s dry and he feels a bit like a teenager all over again but it’s more than he’s had in longer than he’d like to admit.

“D’ya got any lube?” Louis’ voice gets a bit higher, breathier, when he’s turned on and it makes Harry’s stomach do another flip.

“Yeah, ‘s in the drawer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Louis smiles, like he remembers he’d thrown it about that first day and grabs it. There are condoms there, too, but he doesn’t think that’s going to be necessary tonight. It’s too much too quickly. He takes his hands away and pours a decent amount of lube into his palms, then wraps his hands back around their cocks.

It feels better. A wet glide and warmth and Louis is staring at him in such an intense way that it’s making his cheeks feel warm and the tips of his ears hot.

Louis lips brush gently against his own once again, and then his teeth pull at his bottom lip and Harry comes. It was surprisingly fast and almost embarrassing, but when Louis works his own fist over himself faster and the little breathless moans get louder, he doesn’t feel as embarrassed.

“Sleepy?” Louis asks. Harry is boneless and slumped back against the headboard. Louis laughs, but it doesn’t feel like it’s judgemental, just observant. He’s always had trouble staying awake after he comes.

“Mm.” He replies, but then he’s asleep. 

**July 22 nd , 2016**

Harry’s palms are sweating when they pull up in front of Gemma’s new house. It’s a beautiful little place – the kind of little house that he’d really always envisioned Gemma ending up in. Louis is looking at him and Harry already wants to drive away. He knows that inside of that house lies his mum and his sister and her husband and friends that he’s long since abandoned for a life that he can’t even share with any of them.

“All right. If anyone asks, we’ve been together for like, a year. We’re happy and live together in my flat in London. You don’t know my job, because none of them do. Just mention government work if they really ask. We have a cat named Dusty.”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes. But please? Just. This is really –“

“I’m going to play along, Haz. I think this will be fun.” Harry smiles a little at that and climbs out of the car and then walks to the other side of the car and opens Louis’ door for him, helps him out, and holds his hand. He knows it’s fake – of course he does – the rational part of his brain is telling him to run and flee and to pretend he was never here in the first place, but the less rational part of his brain is telling him to go inside and have his wonderful fake relationship with Louis.

He grabs his little house warming gift and goes and knocks on the door. His heart his pounding so hard in his chest that he knows Louis can feel it through where their palms touch, and he’s rubbing gentle little circles with his thumb that are really doing a great job of helping him calm down. It’s all a little overwhelming.

Then his mother opens the door and she drops the cup of coffee that she was holding in her hand and puts a hand over her mouth. “ _Harry.”_ Anne says and tears start pouring down her face. She pulls him into a hug, which pulls his and Louis’ hands apart, but it’s okay. He feels that she’s trembling, her breathing uneven with the excitement of him showing up.

It’s a long while before she pulls away and as soon as she does, she wipes the tears out of her eyes and looks over to Louis. “Who’s this, then?” She doesn’t sound judgmental and for that Harry is grateful.

“Hi, mum. This is Louis, my boyfriend.”

“It’s so lovely of the two of you to come. Come in, come in. Gems is upstairs finishing her hair. The party doesn’t start for an hour or so.” The two of them walk in together and Louis suddenly looks a bit overwhelmed. Harry’s guilt starts to gnaw at his stomach and it’s all too much. His mother looks like she’s just won the lottery with her son walking through the door and Louis looks like he’s about to fall over.

It’s overwhelming. Harry is going to throw up.

  
They’re sat on the couch with tea mugs in their hands a half hour later. Gemma comes down and almost screams when she sees Harry, comes running over and hugs him tightly. “I can’t believe you actually came!” She shouts and Harry knows she doesn’t mean it the way he’s taking it. She means it in the way that she’s excited he’s here, but instead he’s taking it in the way that she can’t believe he even bothered to show up, because he hasn’t in so, so long.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“You know, Harry, we aren’t going to say it’s okay.” Gemma says and she has this look on her face that really makes him just want to jump out the window. “After five years of not seeing you… it’s hard to really forgive you. But we can work on it.”

“Thank you.”

 

Two hours later, Louis is a hit with his family. They’re all laughing and having a good time. Gemma and her husband have opened all of their gifts and placed them all around the house; James is upstairs for his nap and everything feels… all right.

Louis fits in perfectly and it makes him feel ill again. He hates that he can imagine Louis staying forever and he hates it even more that he wants it. Family will never be a part of his equation.

“So, how long have you two been together?”

“Two years.” Louis says quickly and Harry decides he’s just going to let him take over. He sounds convincing enough. “Well, coming up at least. Isn’t that right, Haz?” Louis says and he has this gleam in his eyes that makes Harry’s heart flip. He wants to go home.

“Huh?” He says, a bit spaced out but it makes everyone laugh.

“Harry’s always been bad with dates.” Anne says and laughs. It’s not true at all, but maybe he thinks they’ve created a new version of him in their minds that replaces the old him. He wasn’t ever much of a good kid.

All he really remembers is when he was younger he’d run off with his father and have too much fun doing the things he’s doing now, but back then he’d never realized that they were illegal. He’d go out and he’d enjoy having pockets full of money and he’d go home and buy his mother nice things and pretend he didn’t notice the saddened looks in her eyes. He’d come home and scream and cry when she wouldn’t let him go out and then he’d just sneak out of his bedroom window anyway, or shout about how he wanted to go live with dad.

It all calmed down a bit when he turned sixteen, but that was also the last few months that he actually lived at home. The last few months were weird – _he_ was weird. He’d obsess over numbers and make sure everything was perfect – just the way his dad taught him. _If your dates and numbers aren’t perfect son,_ his father would say as they looked over calendars and counted money, _you’ll learn to make them perfect as you count your days in prison._

When he comes back to reality, Gemma is staring at him like she’s worried, but Louis and his mum are talking enthusiastically. “Gemma?” He chokes out.

“Yeah, H?”

“I need – Can we go outside and talk alone for a minute?” She looks even more concerned for a moment, but nods.

“Of course. Yeah. Um, lets go.” She sets her tea mug down on the table and the two of them make their way out to the back yard and she closes the door behind her. It’s quiet for a moment and Harry sits down on the curb, and finally he just cries. Gemma looks shocked and unsure how to really handle the situation, but she sits beside him and rubs soothing little circles with her palm against his back.

“I want to tell you everything, Gemma. And I know you’ll probably never want to speak to me again and you’re going to kick me out of your home and you’re going to –“

“Harry, tell me before you tell me what I’m going to do.” He swallows the lump in his throat.

“Do you remember how much I went out with dad when I was younger?”

“Of course, H. You were always with him.”

“Well, when I um. When he ‘took me to work’, his work wasn’t… It wasn’t anything um, orthodox.” She doesn’t look surprised. “It wasn’t government work.”

“We’ve always known that, H.”

“Yeah, I guess. But um,” He doesn’t even know how to speak about it. He doesn’t know what to do or where to go. He thinks as soon as he talks about it he’ll go kill himself. He’d rather that than go to prison. He’ll just have to text Liam first. “He was pretty involved in the … criminal scene. And he raised me on it.”

“Criminal scene? What are you on about, H? Dad liked to pretend he was a bad ass because he did graffiti.”

“No, Gems. It’s so much more than that and I just. I’m having a lot of trouble telling you because this is it for me, all right? As soon as I tell you, I’m done. There is no more me.” Now she looks genuinely concerned, lines in her face prominent and scared.

“Harry, you’re scaring me.”

“I know. But. I just want to tell someone, all right?”

“All right. Okay.”

“Dad was the leader of a very, very large gang in central London. Up against the gang that a man named Simon Cowell used to run.” Gemma looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. “He got a little cocky when he saw that Cowell’s numbers were declining and he kind of just… he thought he could rule the entire world, yeah? Dad was always like that – always thought that he would come out on top. I did, too.” Harry pauses. “So when I went and lived with dad, I wasn’t – I dropped out of school. All of my A-Level certificates are fake. I was –“ Another pause. Bile crawls up his throat. “I was dad’s second in his gang. He um, he kind of just dragged me into it from when I was twelve, but it was always my choice. I’m not blaming dad. But after he died… I took it all over.” Gemma is still silent. He looks Gemma straight in the eyes, “I’m Harry Styles.”

His family’s biological last name is Twist. Harry styles is a name well known on the streets – feared, even. He knows that better than anyone else.

“Harry. You – this isn’t funny.” She has tears in her eyes.

“I know.” He sighs. “I wish it was all a joke. But… that’s your reason. That’s why I haven’t been around in so long. It’s um, it’s dangerous for me to be here, but I’ve taken every precaution I can to make sure I wasn’t followed. I don’t think I came here planning to tell you, but since I did… I hope you understand that I can’t – we can never see each other again.”

“Harry – please.” She’s crying now. “You have to quit this – your boyfriend he –“

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She freezes up. “He’s – I had to take him hostage because hid dad owes me a few hundred thousand pounds.” She freezes again. “We’re going to leave now and um, if you call the police, I’ll understand. But like I said, Gems, this is it for me. I love you.”

“I’m not going to call the police, Harry.” She says but she sounds sad about it. “If my brother is going to be a crime lord, at least you can keep us safe, yeah? If anyone messes with us, we know who to turn to?” She tries for a smile but it just comes across as nervous. He understands.

“How are you so calm about this?”

“Honestly, H, I’ve long since learned that no one can choose what you do.” She sighs softly and gives him a sad smile. “I think I’ve always known something was up when you had such nice things and you always seemed so successful but were never able to really tell us what was going on. I still love you. I don’t ever want to know the horrible details of what you do or have done, but I will always be your sister and I’m not going to be the reason you get thrown in prison.”

“Thank you, Gemma.”

“But I do expect you to put James through university.” She says with a little wink.

“Him and any other kid you have. I promise. I’ll even send you guys money every month. Anything you lot need, it’s yours.” Gems smiles and leans her head on his shoulder.

“I won’t tell mum, either.” Harry smiles. “But I really don’t believe you about that boy. He looks at you in the kind of way that – there’s no way he doesn’t feel something for you, H.” A pause. “Plus, that hickey on your neck really gives that away.” He turns red and gently slaps Gemma on the arm.

“God has that really been visible this entire time?”

“Yeah. It definitely has.” They both laugh a little and it feels incredible to be completely open with someone he loves.

 

 

He and Louis are back in the car together, sitting in silence as he drives down the motor way. “So, what did you and your sister talk about?” Louis asks and Harry actually smiles.

“I told her.” Louis tenses.

“You told her… what, exactly?”

“I told her the truth. About me. About you. About my life.” Louis is staring at him like he doesn’t believe him, eyes wide and unsure. “She said she doesn’t support me, obviously, but she also isn’t going to call the police and ruin me. On the condition that I put her son and all of her future children through university.”

“Well, damn.”

“I know, right.” Harry sighs happily and turns up the music when the silence fills the room again. He isn’t sure why he’s in such an incredible mood, but he really is. Telling his sister has really made such a difference in the weight on his shoulders. He feels better.

“Are you excited to see your mum?”

“She’s probably going to slap me around quite a bit, but I think I’ve conjured up a bit of a story.”

“Okay?” Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s a bit of an expensive story, though.” Harry is suddenly interested.

“You and I met because your friend is a single mother and you went to pick up her son from the school I teach at. We fell in love instantly, totally head over heels in love and ran off to London an eloped. You’re filthy rich because of your father’s… inheritance. Neither of us will ever have to work a day in our lives except me, your wonderful newly wed husband, wants to one day teach drama to more students. But not right now. You have to buy me a ring and – before you ask – you don’t get anything out of it except me never complaining to you again and I promise I’ll watch my mood and I’ll cherish you as my fake husband from every moment from now until you kick me out in a week.” Louis finally breathes.

“You’re insane. But brilliant.”

“I know, right.”

“Lets go get us rings, then.” Louis eyes light up and Harry’s heart swoons.

 

They walk into a jewelry store and Harry is floored. He isn’t sure what to do with himself in that moment because he realizes that Louis is there with him. He realizes that he’s here – right now – standing in a jewelry store with the only boy he’s ever really felt so strongly for. “What’s my price limit, then?” Louis asks.

“You don’t have one.” Louis’ eyebrows nearly disappear in his hairline and he gets a look on his face like a challenge. Harry just prays that it’s not too much damage.

 

When Louis sets his eyes on a beautiful ruby and sapphire ring, Harry is equally as enamored with it as he is. It’s a simple silver band and the gems are embedded within the metal, but it still shines bright underneath the light of the showcases and Harry almost can’t look away.

He’s never been much of a diamond type of person, and seeing such a beautiful ring without a diamond makes his eyes tear up ever so slightly in a way he’s never felt before. His heart is heavy and he can’t even begin to explain why this is making him so happy, but it really is.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this with Louis. He shouldn’t be feeling anything at all. But instead, he’s feeling too much and not enough all at the same time. He wants to kiss Louis and make him feel like he really is his – wants to get down on a knee and ask him to make all of this real, but he can’t. He can’t. The only real recognition he’s even gotten from Louis that their feelings are even slightly mutual was their little handjob session from a few days previous. It doesn’t feel like enough and he doesn’t think it ever will.

“I need a size eight in the gemless one. What’s your ring size, H?” Louis already seems to know him well enough that he wants the one with the gem, and he wants to cry.

“I need a ten, please.” The assistant is smiling as she takes the rings from the case and hands each of them the rings in the size they’d asked for. Harry never wants to take it off – loves the way the ring adorns his only empty finger – but he does want to take all of the other rings off. He wants to keep all of the attention on _that_ ring. So as he pulls out his wallet, that’s exactly what he does.

 

“So, tomorrow morning we go to your mum’s house. We stay the night there, and then we head back the next afternoon, right?”

“Yup.” Louis says and cuddles into Harry’s side.

“Okay. Sleep well.” Harry says and kisses the top of Louis’ head.

He’s so happy. 

 

 

 

**July 23 rd , 2016**

The house is so small that when Harry first drives by, he misses it. Louis swats at him and points backwards. His heart twists for a moment.

Louis lived _here_ while his father made their entire mortgage in a day.

He suddenly feels the need to apologize – to say he’s so _sorry_ he let him get caught up in all of this when it’s so clear that Louis was never involved with his father, never had anything to do with the man. But it’s not the time – he knows that – just because of the bright smile on Louis’ face that could clear up every problem he ever imagined.

He parks up at the curb and they walk up together. He thinks maybe they should be holding hands if they want this to be believable, but Louis doesn’t seem to think so, so he doesn’t push it. His palms are sweating, anyway, so that would be gross.

“Louis.” Louis’ mum – or who he assumes to be Louis mum – says as she opens the door. She has a baby on her hip and a cup of tea in her other hand and Harry suddenly feels a bit nervous. The ring on his finger feels like it’s putting off enough light to attract every single person’s attention.  
He’s not usually this nervous, he’s not. It’s just. He knows Louis is too good for him and this is all fake and if it were ever to become anything he’s scared this whole façade would ruin it.

It’s nerve wracking.

He’s usually the one who incites the fear, never the one who has to experience it. Especially over something this trivial, and it’s overwhelming. He doesn’t know how to deal with it or how to process it.

Jay invites the two of them inside and he tries to ignore the pointed looks she’s sending Louis.

“I know you have a lot of questions, mum, so you can just… ask.” She furrows her eyebrows at him and sighs softly.

“Would you two like some tea?”

 

They’re sat around the table and it’s silent, mostly. Jay is chewing at her lip like she’s nervous and there are bags under her eyes that Harry knows came from crying. They’re poorly hidden with a thick layer of concealer, but Harry’s not sure he would know those lines if he didn’t work in this business. Anyone else would assume they were from fatigue.

“You went missing, Louis. _Missing._ For over two weeks. There are police looking for you and – _god.”_ Louis flinches.

“I… I know, mum.” His voice cracks. “I kind of had a crisis?”

“A crisis!” She shouts and puts her hands over her face. “A crisis means you – you buy a car and put yourself in debt or you leave your girlfriend or you get a face tattoo! It doesn’t mean you –“ she’s crying, now, and Harry wants to leave. “It doesn’t mean you up and leave without a single word for weeks. And you’re _married?”_

“I know. I’m sorry. Nothing’s happened.” His finger twitches. His lie tick. “It’s just – I restarted. I needed to… get away.” She sighs, practically deflates.

“I guess you’re right. You’re a grown man. I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have reacted this way.” Another pause. “I’m sorry, Harry, for um. For making this first… meeting awkward. I was just –“

“It’s all right, ma’am. I understand. We should have called first.”

“Well, then, tell me about you two.”

 

She buys their story. Louis calls the sherrif and explains their fake story. Everything is – it’s all clear. Harry’s not sure if he’s done this just to clear his own plate or if he really, genuinely wants to continue to be with him. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

 

They’re back in the car within a few hours, and as soon as they pull away, Louis is crying. It’s deep, heavy crying that he hasn’t seen since that first day. He pulls over and Louis crawls into his lap.

Harry rubs his hand around his back and just lets him cry. “Louis?”

“Yeah?” He asks through a sob.

“You don’t have to come back with me, if you don’t want to.” There’s a long silence other than Louis’ crying. “You can stay here, tell everyone that this crisis is done and your mother snapped you out of it. You kicked me off to the curb.” He swallows. “I didn’t – I didn’t realize how little influence your father really had in your life until I saw all of this. You’re – you can go.”

“You want to know something really stupid, Harry?”

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“I didn’t realize how boring my life was until I met you. And it’s like – that’s so dumb, right – ‘cause you’ve literally been holding me hostage. But like – when I was here my life felt like fucking _Groundhog Day._ Every day was the same – I’d get up and I’d feel miserable but I’d pretend I wasn’t. School would end at the end of the day and I’d find any excuse to stay back and be with students but the school was only open till 6:30 and then I’d go to the bar and get in arguments when I’d come home smelling of it.” He shakes his head. “I don’t – I don’t think I want to live your life, necessarily; I couldn’t do that. But I don’t want to come back here anymore. I’d like to stay with you – even if just until the day my dad does or doesn’t turn up and you kick me out or – kill me. Whatever.” Harry’s stunned.

“If this doesn’t prove that I’m not going to kill you, I don’t know what will, Lou.” He looks out the window and sighs. “I um, I’ve gotten a bit attached to you, honestly. I’m not entirely sure what to do with that feeling, actually.”

“So I can stay?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea or even smart, really, but yes. You can stay.” 

**July 24 th , 2016**

“Do you want to meet my cat?” Harry asks over breakfast the next morning. They’re out – sitting in a café on the outskirts of London. Harry has a waffle, Louis got a normal English.

“I honestly don’t even believe you have a cat.” Louis says with a teasing tone.

“She’d be offended.” He says and sticks his tongue out. “I do have one, though. Sort of. I found her in a box when I first got my flat, and um, the upstairs neighbors think I just travel a lot for work, so they take care of her most of the time. But she is mine.”

“I’d love to meet her.”

 

Dusty likes Louis more than she likes Harry.

Go figure.

“I really like this flat.” Louis says softly, Dusty sitting on his lap and nuzzling her head into the palm of his hand. “It looks… homey. Like your room and office at the house? It looks…”

“Staged.” Harry finishes with a little grin. “It is. Most of it, anyway. You and Liam are the only two who have seen both places and you’ve both said the same thing.”

“Why don’t you come here more often?”

“I’m saving it for something, I think. I don’t want to tarnish it with my … I don’t know. I’d like to live here when I’m not thinking about people finding me here.”

“Will you ever get to?”

“Maybe one day. It might not be here. But I guess it’s the idea of it that’s so appealing.” Louis lifts dusty away from his lap and moves to straddle Harry’s waist. It’s not sexual, just more like a cuddle.

“I think that’s wise.”

“You’re quite touchy, aren’t you?”

“I like a good cuddle. Do you not?” Harry laughs and smiles. He does, even if he won’t admit it.

 

It’s a few hours later when they’re both curled up on the couch, footrests kicked out, and take out containers left on the coffee table when Harry gets a weird feeling in his stomach. He twitches and Louis glances over at him. “All right?” He asks but Harry doesn’t respond.

“Weird feeling. One second.” He reaches into the table drawer and pulls out a tablet. It has his security cameras hooked up to it and opens it up. There’s someone standing there, back turned to the camera lense and Harry’s heart is jack rabbiting in his chest. “Stay here, kay? I’ll be right back.”

Louis looks a bit scared and pulls the blanket up around himself and his eyes widen when Harry pulls out his gun. He cocks it when he pulls the door open and –

It’s Liam.

“Jesus Christ.” He says under his breath and Liam looks at him a little funny.

“Sorry, H. I called like, six times. It’s kind of –“ Liam looks really panicked.

“Come in. Come on.”

“Niall and Zayn – they were at a party together last night. Both of them sent me texts saying they were on their way back around one am and then – they never showed up.” A pause, he’s breathing heavily. “Zayn’s favorite ring was left on my antenna of my car this morning.”

“Take Louis home. I’m gonna – I’m gonna go find them.”

 

He goes down the stairs and gets to his car before he feels a hand grab his arm. “Let me come.” Louis says and Harry shakes his head.

“I don’t – this could be ugly, all right? I don’t want you to see it.”

“Niall and Zayn are my friends. If they’re –“ He can’t even say the word dead, so Harry doesn’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t think he could handle seeing it if he can’t handle saying it.

“I promise I’ll keep you updated, all right?”

“No. Let me come with.” He crosses his arms and Liam is standing behind him just a bit.

“Come on, Lou. Just trust him. You don’t want to –“

“I _do_ want to.” Harry sighs.

“Fine. But you’re sitting in the back seat.” Louis glares but shrugs and gets in the back. Liam gets in the front and gives him a skeptical look, but Harry ignores it.

“Liam, call Zayn. If he doesn’t answer, try Niall.” Liam nods and does what Harry’s asked, but neither of them answer. He sighs.

“Call the party host.”

“I um, I don’t have –“ Harry shoots him a look. “Right. I’ll find it. Sorry.” He can see Louis watching him in the rearview mirror, but he’s not thinking about that right now.

It’s barely five minutes before Liam has the host on the phone.

There’s a lot of yelling and even more threats coming from Liam’s mouth, but before long they have an address. “678 Murbrow.”

Louis looks a little pale. “I have some headphones if you want to use them.” Harry offers. Louis nods. He wants to say _I told you so_ but he doesn’t. He cares too much about Louis for that.

 

There’s a taller man waiting outside when they get there. “Stay in the car, Louis.” Is all Harry says and then he’s coming up to the man. He’s never seen him before, but he can never be certain someone doesn’t want to hurt him. “Evening.” He says.

“Styles. Bout time you caught me hook then, innit?” He’s irish.

“Not sure what you’re on about; I’m just here for my men.”

“Shame, cause you’re not getting em.” Harry sighs, cocks his head to the side and grabs his gun. Liam pulls his out, too, and then the man’s resolve wavers. He’s not sure what this was supposed to be.

“I want you to listen to this closely,” Harry says, “No one trumps me; no one crosses me and makes it out alive. Give me Zayn and Niall back now and no one gets hurt.” The man gives a face, like he’s frustrated and unsure, but Harry isn’t wavering. “Five.” He stars the count down and he can even see Liam trembling at that point. When he gets irritated enough to count – something his father had done – he gives his most painful punishments. “Four.”

“I suggest you don’t let him get to _one.”_ Liam says. His tone is pleading.

“Three.” Harry sing songs. “Two.” Liam swallows. “One.” He pouts a bit. “Shame, really. You could have been useful. Bring him inside, Li. Let’s play a game.”

“Wait – all right. Okay. I’ll take you to them.”

“Oh I know you will. But now it’s just going to be a little more fun.” Harry grins – his signature crooked grin and Liam grabs the man by the back of the neck and drags him inside. Harry gives a little look to Louis as he follows and an innocent little thumbs up. He doesn’t watch for the response.

 

Liam zipties the man up to his kitchen chair and looks around the house for Niall and Zayn. They’re both in the guest room, tied up and gagged. Liam gets them free and looks around once again to see if there’s anyone else around.

“Harry!” Liam calls from the backroom. “I found…” He comes out with a little girl in tow. She looks maybe nine or ten, old enough to be aware. She has a black eye and a busted lip and Harry is suddenly filled to the brim with anger.

“There’s a special place in my book for little cunts who abuse children.” Harry says. “Niall, take her out to the car with Lou, would you? You lot can go home. Liam and I will be back soon.” The two of them nod. The girl doesn’t say a word as she’s led out.

“You can’t just – you can’t just take my daughter from me!”

“You dare call yourself a father when you hit her?”

“She just – I –“ Harry shoots him through his right knee cap. “First of all, you didn’t take me to my friends when I asked oh-so-nicely. That’s for that.” The man screams and Harry tuts. “Liam, grab me a towel, would you?” There’s a towel in his hand a few moments later and he shoves it into the man’s mouth. He shoots his other knee cap and the screams are muffled. “That’s for making me wait.” The man looks like he’s about to pass out.

“Aw, none of that, now. You’ve gotta stay awake. This is gonna be the best part!” The man is crying. He doesn’t care. Harry grabs the wooden box of kitchen knives and pulls out the shortest. It goes right into the man’s right thigh. Then the longest goes through his left. Liam is watching with a lip between his teeth.

“I’ll be back.” Liam says and goes back towards the back room. Harry just turns to the man.

“Now, what should I do to make you feel like shite for hurting that little girl?” He’s not going to kill him. He has no need to do that. Killing him would only make him get out easy. Liam comes back with a little stuffed bear.

“Can I?” He knows Liam has always wanted a kid – especially a daughter – so he assumes he’s taking this personally. Harry nods.

Liam sticks a knife through the bear and stabs it into his arm. Another scream through the gag.

 

They leave right after that.

 

Zayn and Niall dropped the girl off at the police station. 

**July 25 th, 2017**

The next morning, Harry has to go for a run to blow of some steam.

When Harry returns, Louis is on his bed. He’s found that he is almost always there, but mostly when Harry has explicitly told him _not_ to be. It’s almost amusing – because Harry knows good and well that Louis wouldn’t be there if he didn’t tell him not to be. So, maybe he tells him to stay away just to get him to come. He’s reading one of the books from Harry’s shelf, and it looks like he’s only about forty pages in, but Harry thinks it’s probably appropriate to stop him now before he gets much further.

“If that’s from the top shelf, you’re not going to get very far. It’s glued and hollowed in the middle.” Louis looks up to him and scowls.

“How dare you disrespect a book in such a way, Styles!” He then flicks a thumb through the pages and Harry sighs as he watches a few dozen hundred pound notes fall out. “Oh, well, shit.” Louis says softly and Harry just sighs. It’s a fond sigh, though, and he places a hand on his hip. Louis is just blinking rapidly, like he doesn’t entirely understand what just fell out of the book.

“Holy shit, Harry. This is a lot of money.” Harry shakes his head and laughs. It’s still fond.

“It’s really not. Shake it some more, since you already made a mess.” Louis furrows his eyebrows and shakes the book again, after flicking his fingers through the pages and several more fall out. Harry keeps various items stashed inside of his books, so he thinks it’s just slightly amusing that Louis has never touched the ones on the top before to find these things. “It should be about twenty grand, give or take a few hundred.”

“Wha – Harry this could pay for someone’s entire uni tuition. Just this – just this _one_ book!”

“I know.” He knows that very well. He’s donated to a few charities before – and maybe that’s contradictory since he’s a criminal – but he enjoys it. He likes to feel like he’s doing something decent when there’s really nothing else in his life that he does right.

“So… when do I get jumped in?” Harry knows he’s kidding, so he can’t help the laugh. It’s real and long and he can feel it in his chest for a few moments after he’s done. He’s really not even sure why he’s laughing so hard – but it makes Louis smile, too, so it makes him feel good.

“I think you could go straight to fighting me, if you wanted.”

“Thought that doesn’t turn out very well for anyone?”

“It doesn’t. But it might for you.” Louis is smiling and Harry gets a sudden realization, then, that they’re lying on the bed together. It’s become a rather common occurrence, but it’s something he’s never, _never_ been comfortable with before. He’s never shared a bed with anyone. The last time he had sex, he fucked and fled. Sharing a bed made it feel real and intimate and too close – and here he was with Louis, lying beside him in his own bed and he didn’t have a single bad feeling about it.

“Harry?” Louis asks, and he’s looking at him with a look in his eyes that Harry can’t read. His heart is beating a bit faster, now, and he feels like something is wrong. He feels like everything is wrong and that Louis is destroying his resolve, his promise to himself and his father that he’d never let break. He doesn’t fall in love, he doesn’t develop feelings, he doesn’t _trust_ outside of his business. It’s not what he does. It’s what got his father killed and it’ll be what gets him killed and he refuses to let it happen. But he feels like he doesn’t have control. He can’t control himself around Louis because he’s entirely, totally enamored by him.

“Hm?” He asks, meeting the gaze of his blue-eyed boy.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry’s mouth goes dry and he stares at Louis for a long while. Eventually, Louis’ expression turns more… unsure. Like he feels like he’s crossed the same boundaries that Harry knows he’s about to cross. But he doesn’t have any resolve around Louis. Louis breaks all of those parts of him that he’s spent so long building up and it’s completely terrifying. It makes him think that Louis is his end game. Louis is it for him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel this again after he leaves in a few days and he doesn’t think he’ll ever let anyone in like he has over the last few weeks ever again.

So he makes his decision. It’ll destroy him one day. He knows that – he knows good and well that Louis will be his downfall – but he can accept that. He wants to feel like this, if only for seventy-two hours more. He wants to feel everything he can and experience the entire world with Louis and give him all the gold and riches that his world can offer. So, even after Louis seems to have given up and doesn’t expect a response, he whispers _yes._

Louis blinks a few more times before he’s crawling on top of Harry and slotting their lips together. It’s gentle at first, a soft brush of skin against skin and Harry’s lips are chapped and dry and he wishes they weren’t, but Louis is running his hands through his hair and he doesn’t let himself think about it anymore. Louis’ lips are so soft and gentle against his own and Harry really could let Louis kiss him forever. He _wants_ him to.

“Never quite took you as the submissive type, Styles.” Louis says and Harry barks out a laugh.

“It’s – it’s kind of nice. You know? To give up some power even if it’s just for a little while.” Louis’ eyes soften, like he understands. “Plus it’s quite nice to get a cock up me arse every once and a while, too.”

“I can certainly… help you with that.” Louis says with a grin and kisses Harry again. It’s different this time – like there’s intent behind it. His lips are just as soft – of course – and they brush against his own with the same gentleness that had been there before, but then his tongue brushes over his bottom lip and Harry lets Louis have that simple piece of control. He lets him guide the kiss and lets Louis tug on the strands of his hair and everything grows heated much faster than he’d anticipated.

“Slowly, yeah? It’s been a while.”

“’Course.” Louis says and it’s just barely a whisper – but Harry takes it to heart. He feels like this moment is theirs – a secret that he’ll hold in his heart long after Louis leaves. It’s slow in the way Louis’ hands trail up his sides and slowly undo each of the buttons on his shirt. With each inch of skin removed, he places a little kiss there, traces his fingers over the ink that litters his skin, and Harry revels in it. He lets out a little breathless gasp when Louis takes his right nipple into his mouth, swirls his tongue around the little nub and chooses the same moment to swivel his hips right down into Harry’s.

He can feel the hard outline of Louis’ cock through his trousers, and he is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to _touch._ He wants to touch and be touched and love and be loved and he wants everything Louis can give to him. “Touch me.” He breathes out and Louis just grins up at him.

“I am touching you.” He says and flicks his tongue over his nipple again while his pointer finger teases gentle circles around the other.

“Fucking tease.” He says and Louis just laughs.

“Oh, you meant somewhere else?” Harry gives him a playful glare.

“Should probably just do it myself, then. Since you won’t.” He says and reaches down to palm himself through his trousers, but Louis’ hand is around his wrist before he gets far at all. Harry would be lying if he didn’t say that his breath caught in his throat as his hand was pushed away and placed over the top of his head. Louis grabbed his other hand and placed it above his head, too. Harry knew he could easily get out of Louis’ grip, even being guided, and he knew all it would take was an easy muttering of the word _stop_ and Louis would be off of him, so maybe that’s why he chose to play along.

He really loved the idea of giving up some kind of the overwhelming control he had in his life. Sometimes it was just too much for him to handle and if anyone else was willing to take away some of that overwhelming pressure to be in charge, he would jump on it.

“That’s not what good boys do, now is it?” Harry is dumbfounded. Entirely. His entire world actually comes to a slow halt for a moment as soon as the words leave Louis’ mouth and he just stares at him for a moment. His cock _twitches_ in his pants with the words, though, and he’s not sure why, but his face burns with the heat of it. Louis seems to be searching his expressions for any kind of doubt there, but when Harry just shakes his head in response to his question, Louis gives a gentle smile. “Words, love.”

“Um – no. No, it’s not what uh –“

“Say it.” Harry’s face burns again.

“It’s not what good boys do.” He’s hard. He’s so hard it actually _hurts_ and all he wants is for Louis to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him, but at the same time – he can’t help but love the way Louis’ teasing him.

“Mm, you’re right. So, just let me make you feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry says softly. He’s still a bit dumbfounded, amazed by this sudden size of Louis that he’s never seen before. Louis just looks at him for a moment longer, and then he’s finally undoing the button and zip on his trousers and peeling the material away from his skin. His cock tents his pants and there’s a bit of a wet patch soaking through the fabric from a bit of pre-come staining the material.

Louis gets a hand on him – finally – and even though it’s through the thin material of his pants, he still cants his hips up into the touch. Louis shoots him a slightly pointed look – a crooked eyebrow - like a warning to be good, and he fists his hands into the sheets as he forces himself to be still.

It’s an entirely new experience, something he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. He feels like he’s giving up so much control, and he feels _good._ He feels good to be safe and surrounded by this little bubble where all the attention is on him and there’s nothing bad in the world and the only things he can think about are how much he wants Louis to kiss him and how much he really, really wants some friction against his aching cock.

Louis keeps eye contact with him as he wraps a hand, firm and warm, around his prick and tugs his pants from his legs as well. They’re discarded somewhere across the room, but Harry can’t be bothered to look. Instead he just stares right back at Louis. His pupils are blown wide and Harry feels like he could melt away at any moment.

Louis rubs his thumb in gentle little circles over the tip of Harry’s cock – just gentle little teasing touches that have Harry practically gagging for it. “Fucking – this is _not_ what I meant when I said slow.” Every touch zips through every nerve ending in his body and he feels a bit like he’s on fire – the pleasure already overwhelming. Louis just grins at him again.

“Where’s your lube, then?”

“You’re the one who put it away when you tossed my shit about, shouldn’t you know?” Louis rolls his eyes and flicks Harry’s nipple, making him pout, and grabs the lube from the top drawer.

“Turn over for me?” Harry does so without complaint, settling himself on his knees and his forearms, lets his head rest forwards against the pillow. Louis spreads his cheeks apart, then there’s a gentle, dry touch of a finger, just teasing and circling around his rim. _Christ._ Harry has never been with someone who likes to tease so much.

“Get _on with it_ would you?” Louis laughs again and Harry just rolls his eyes. He’s helplessly, totally, head over heels, into this boy. It’s dangerous.

“Only since you asked _sooo_ nicely.” Harry rolls his eyes again and laughs, just a little, but a surprised gasp comes from his mouth instead when he feels one of Louis’ fingers press right inside of him, all the way to the knuckle.

“ _oh.”_ He says, and Louis kisses the small of his back.

“Good?”

“Best.” Harry says, lets his eyes fall closed and just enjoys the feeling. It’s been a long while since he’s been with anyone, but it still feels incredible to have something inside of him – the gentle movements of a finger inside of him and the slight hooks with the intent to find his prostate and – “ _ah.”_ His entire body twitches as Louis’ finger presses right against his prostate. His cock leaks more precome against his duvet, and his thighs are _already_ trembling. He’s not been this turned on in a long, long time.

Louis adds another finger inside of him, and focuses both of them right against that spot inside of him. Stars flash in front of his eyes, tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he’s moaning, loud and high pitched. “Oh, God.” He says softly, thighs still twitching and shaking with the pleasure running through each of his nerve endings. “I’m gonna – I don’t want to come yet.” He whines out and Louis’ fingers immediately still inside of him.

“Want to come on my cock, then?”

“Christ.” Harry breathes out, “Yes.” He had never imagined Louis to be the type to talk like that – and to talk like that so effortlessly. Louis doesn’t respond, but his fingers scissor a bit, avoiding his prostate as he does, just to make sure he’s stretched.

“One more, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He feels another finger nudging at his rim and moans again, louder, when he presses it inside of him. He feels full _already_ – the sensations all over and everywhere and he feels a bit out of it, already. But he knows it’s only going to get better when he gets Louis’ cock instead. It’s a while longer with the gentle thrusts inside of him of Louis’ fingers, still expertly avoiding his prostate, before the fingers are gone and Louis is kissing the small of his back again.

“Turn over again, yeah?” Harry’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his chest. He doesn’t – he does _not_ fuck like this. He doesn’t do missionary – he never has. It’s too intimate. But Louis is talking in such a soft voice and there’s another little voice in his head promising that everything will be okay, even if it’s just for now. He doesn’t – he just _can’t,_ though.

“Um,” He starts, and he can see the anxiety suddenly knitting in Louis’ eyebrows. “Hey, no, it’s all right. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis nods. “Can I just – stay like this, maybe?”

“Yeah – that’s fine. Of course. Sorry.” Louis says the _sorry_ so softly that Harry wants to change his mind. There’s the sound of a condom wrapper being undone, and he just sighs contently. He wants to let Louis kiss away all of his doubts and inhibitions of getting too attached, but then he feels the head of Louis’ cock pressing right against his hole – slick with lube – and he forgets what he was thinking about. “Good?” He’s just teasing, barely pressing in and then pulling back away, running the head all around his hole.

Harry is certain he could actually cry, if he wanted to.

“Fucking tease.” He says instead, and then Louis bottoms out with a single thrust and Harry’s breath is knocked out of him. “Oh, oh, _fuck.”_

“Shit, shit. Did I hurt you?”

“No – no no. Good fuck. Shit.” Harry says, taking a shallow breath. “Just – do _something.”_ That seems to be all the assurance Louis needs, because he immediately starts moving, shallow thrusts that seem be to be aimed right at his prostate, rubbing over the little bundle of nerves inside of him with each movement.

Harry sees stars. Hs head is resting against the pillow still, and his eyes are closed, and there are little moans coming from his mouth with each movement. It’s incredible. All of it. He wants to feel this close to Louis all the time, wants to feel like this all the time.

“Ah –“ He cries out with a particularly hard thrust and comes all over himself, his chest, the duvet, even gets a little on his chin. He hadn’t really been expecting it, but the way Louis’ finger nails dig ever-so-slightly into the flesh on his hips, he doesn’t think he minds. Louis cries out and comes right after him.

When he pulls out, he ties off the condom and tosses it into the bin. They kiss again, softly, and Louis tugs at Harry’s hair a bit hard and Harry flicks his ear lobe.

“I’m knackered.” Louis says softly, and Harry just laughs.

“ _You’re_ knackered? Did you get fucked when I wasn’t paying attention?” Louis rolls his eyes, and they cuddle up together, the duvet pulled up to their waists, and fall asleep. Harry doesn’t even care that he’s still got come on him.

 

When they wake up, it’s quiet. He can faintly hear the commotion from the living room from the football game on – probably Zayn and Liam cheering for their team that everyone else hates – and Louis is still asleep.

When he shuffles, though, he wakes up, too, and just gives Harry a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Well, we really only slept for like, an hour.” Louis flicks Harry’s nose, softly, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mhm.” He says and Louis reaches for the remote.

“I don’t want to watch the game out there, cause that means we have to put clothes on.” Harry nods his agreement and Louis flicks to the channel with the game. They cuddle a bit longer, Harry’s head resting right above where Louis’ heart is. He can hear each beat, gentle and rhythmic, just like his breathing.

It isn’t until there’s a commercial that comes on featuring a family – a new born baby in arms – that he hears Louis’ heart rate pick up. He sits up and sees Louis chewing on his lip, so much that it’s bleeding.

“Everything all right?” Harry asks and Louis’ eyes fill – just in the brim – with tears. They’re quickly blinked away, but he shakes his head _no._

“My girlfriend is pregnant.” Louis says softly, and Harry – he has to take a few deep breaths just to absorb that information. They’re in bed together, the blanket just barely covering both of their bodies and there’s still come drying on Harry’s chest, and Louis has just told him that he has a girlfriend at home _and_ he’s going to be a father.

He’s not sure there are many pains that could quite be compared to the one he’s feeling now. The wrenching grip the reality has on his heart because – he’s grown fond of Louis. He’d thought that Louis was fond of him, too, and that they could actually be _something_ beyond the fabricated relationship that Louis’ being there had created. Harry’s head hurts, and he realizes, then, that this must be some kind of karma. This must be the universe showing him exactly how much he hurts other people and this must be some kind of magical force reminding him how terrible of a person is with the intense pain that he’s feeling.

“Oh.” He says and for the first time in a long, _long_ time, he shows an emotion when he didn’t intend to. He’s always had a great grip on his emotions just because he has to for his job, for the sake of his life. He internalizes everything, takes everything in and waits to digest it until he’s in a safe space where he can do so without being afraid that he’s about to be shot.

But then – he couldn’t. His voice cracked like he was a fucking teenager in puberty, but he likes to think it’s symbolic in some fucked up way, because his heart felt like it was broken in half, too.

“I know.” Louis says softly. They lay there together for a while, and the silence is suffocating. Harry isn’t sure if it would be worse to stand up and walk away or if it would be worse to stay and let himself wrap himself around Louis again – but he has to choose one. “It’s um,” He clears his throat, “It’s not mine, though.” Harry blinks again – and suddenly everything feels too bright and too loud and he’s confused.

“It’s not yours?”

“No.” A sigh. “We’ve um, her and I, we’ve been together since year twelve. We kind of just, clicked, and stuck together all through uni and then we moved in together when we got our degrees. But with work and everything, I got kind of overwhelmed and I’d come home at night and she’d already be asleep. So, when she told me she was pregnant, I was – I was excited. I thought maybe it could do something to mend our relationship, but when we went to the hospital and they said she was three months – we haven’t had sex in at least five.” Another pause; it’s longer this time and Harry isn’t sure what he’s feeling or even what he’s supposed to feel, frankly, so he just stays quiet. “I knew she was cheating on me. I knew for about two years now, but I thought it would even itself out, I guess. I don’t like change and I don’t like things that are there only to fuck my life up.

“But then I met you and – I don’t know. You make chaos a little appealing. I think – I think you’ve done something to help me realize that I don’t want to be with her – I don’t want to settle down and know that she’s cheating on me and know that I’m going to have to raise a child that isn’t mine. I don’t want that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lou.”

“I don’t want you to say anything.” A pause. He could hear Louis’ breathing and he wanted nothing more than to just hold him again and keep him there; it wasn’t until that moment that he realized that he wasn’t going to be there forever. He’d realized it at first, but he’d started taking advantage of it, started taking for granted that Louis was there every morning when he woke up. It hurt to know that there were only two days now separating him from not having that anymore. “I just wanted to tell someone. Anyone. Someone I trust.”

“She doesn’t deserve you, you know that, right?”

“I don’t – I don’t know. I think right now she thinks I’m dead. I think everyone thinks I’m dead at this point, since I’ve been gone so long. So, I’m trying not to think about what she’s probably doing in our bed with all of those men who…” he sighed softly. “I’m no better, though, am I? We just – we just had sex and I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel bad at _all_ and I should maybe because cheating is cheating even if she’s been cheating on me for years but –“ There were tears in Louis’ eyes now and Harry wiped them away with his thumb and kissed his nose. It’s intimate – too close – and probably pushing his boundaries of what Louis wanted for whatever it is that they are.  “I don’t think I want to leave, Harry.”

Harry swallowed. He – he’d never expected to hear that from Louis. Never once did he think that he was going to hear something like that come out of the mouth of someone he’d thought he was going to lose in such a short amount of time. “Then don’t”

“It’s just – going back is going to be so hard and people are going to ask questions and I – wait, what?” Louis’ eyebrows were furrowed, the disbelief of Harry’s invitation etched in the creases on his skin, but Harry smiled.

“I said you don’t have to leave. I enjoy you here, everyone else thinks you’re fun to have around. I certainly have enough money to care for the both of us if you decide you don’t want to go back into your career field for a while.” Louis was just staring at him – his expression unreadable. Harry had an odd feeling in his stomach because he couldn’t tell what Louis was thinking and he couldn’t tell what Louis wanted – but he was going to keep going. He was going to make sure Louis knew he was the first person who’d made him feel real in years and he was the first thing that brought him real, _true_ happiness in the times when he thought that there could never be good times again. “I like you quite a bit, and I think you’re incredible and rather interesting, so, if you decide to stay, I wouldn’t have any objections to it.”

“I don’t know –“

“I’m not forcing you or anything. Take your time – make whatever decision you think is best. Leave if you want, stay if you want. It’s entirely up to you.” Louis nodded and kissed Harry gently.

“Right now, I just want to cuddle a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis’ breathing evens out within a half an hour, but Harry doesn’t sleep a wink.

 

 

**July 26 th, 2017**

It’s quiet in Harry’s room while Louis sits on his bed and reads. Harry is scribbling in a journal, pretending to be occupied, but really he just can’t stop thinking. He can’t stop thinking about Louis and how this boy has taken over his life in the kind of way no boy was ever supposed to. Maybe he has a bit of a complex – a complex about how he had promised himself he’s never going to develop feelings, let alone fall in love, and he’s never going to bring anyone into this life he’s built up around himself.

But he’d managed to fuck all of that up in a short moment of passion where he was just so overwhelmed with the idea of losing Louis that he let all of that go. He doesn’t – he doesn’t want Louis to go. Of course he doesn’t. Something about his little blue eyed prize keeps him happy, keeps him on his toes and makes him think in the kind of way very few others do. It’s something new and he fears that he might just be absorbed into a faux honey moon phase of just a slight obsession with Louis. What if he gets tired of having someone challenging him in a few months?

He doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he were to ever hurt Louis. He could never bring himself to hurt him – he doesn’t think – but if he ever did, that would be his end game. It would tear him apart. So he doesn’t even want to risk it. He doesn’t want to have the chance even being put in front of him. Or even worse – what if someone were to use Louis to get to him?

He knows that’s the most likely thing to happen to him. It’s the same reason his dad had had to leave his mother and him behind after he’d been born and it’s the same reason he’d never seen his dad with a woman for more than a quick fuck and flee. It’s hard – impossible, even – to care for someone when caring becomes a weakness and hardness becomes a strength.

It’s too much to think about and it’s all a little overwhelming with the prospect of how the next few days could change his future forever.

“I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head.” Louis says softly as he clambers off of the bed and pads over to sit with Harry. He fits himself right into Harry’s lap, straddles his lap and sticks his legs through the side of the chair through the arm rests. It’s such a Louis thing to do – to want to be so close to Harry. Everyone else always seems to want to back away and maybe that’s another thing that’s a little overwhelming.

He loves the touch, craves the contact, but it’s always hurt him to do one night stands. He’s always had the thought that sex is something so much more than just pleasure. It’s meant to be something shared between two people with a connection.

Well, it’s not like he’s never had one night stands or quickies in pub loos, but he has most certainly had some of his best sex with the men who he’s had a chance to click and connect with for a while before they rush to bed. With Louis it’s different, though, because he knows things about Harry that no one else will ever know about him.

He isn’t sure if that’s healthy or not, but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, either, because what else in his life could he possibly consider healthy?

“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out a few things.” He says softly and brushes a strand of fringe out of Louis’ eyes. His eyes look much less tired than they had been that first week he’d been here – that week of frustration and fear while they danced around each other to figure out how they were supposed to behave. He thinks they both lost too much sleep that first week, but now everything feels all right again.

“Like what?” Louis asks with a quirked eyebrow and Harry rolls his eyes. He’s so curious about everyting and anything that’s put in front of him and he wants to see and explore everything that’s there for him to do so with and it’s incredible to Harry. He’s never been the type to want to learn or explore or even really be curious. He’s always just taken what he’s given and accepted it with open arms. Sometimes he wishes he could be more like Lou.

“You.” Harry sighs out with honesty. It makes Louis’ eyebrows furrow and a little crease of skin appear right above his nose.

“What about me?”

“I don’t – I think what I said yesterday needs to be taken back.” Harry says and bites his lip. “About you being able to stay.” Louis’ expression shifts nearly half a dozen times before he’s slowly climbing off of Harry’s lap. There’s a sharp pain in his chest and he thinks for a moment that it’s the closest thing to heart break that he’ll ever feel.

“Why?” Is the only question he gets in return, but it’s so _loaded._ Lou’s voice is – it sounds hurt. It’s gone high pitched and breathy in the same way it had when he was terrified that very first day and Harry has learned that that’s the pitch he uses when he’s overwhelmed.

“I –“ Harry starts, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it. “It’s – I want you safe, Louis. It’s – you’re the only person I’ve ever cared about like this, honestly, and it’s such a shitty thing but I think it’s best if you stay away and stay safe rather than I keep you here selfishly and you’re always in danger.”

“Don’t you think that’s my decision too, Harry?”

“No, I really don’t. I know an awful lot more about this business than you do. I don’t want you making uninformed decisions.”

“Harry, it’s not like I’m going to sit here and sit pretty for you every day if I stay. Zayn said he’d let me go out on the streets with him and – do whatever it is he does. I’d learn how to defend myself. All of that good stuff. I could. It’s – I have nothing to go back to. I’m sure I’ve been long since fired from my job, you know about my girl, I’ve really got no friends. What would I even – what would I even _tell them_ when I got back?” Harry sighs and Louis is right – but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what more there even is to say. If Louis wants to stay and risk his life he shouldn’t be the one to tell him what to do and keep him from something he wants.

But he still wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something were to happen to him and it’s so overwhelming.

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Louis.”

“We _need_ to talk about this, Harry. My dad’s supposed to come tomorrow, and when he doesn’t, what happens then? You said he has to think I’m dead, too, so even if I were to leave, I could never see my mum or sisters or friends or go back to the same work ever again. My entire life has to change so why shouldn’t I stay here if I want to?”

“Louis I said I don’t _fucking_ want to talk about this!” Harry nearly yells and Louis doesn’t even shake. It’s admirable, but then he sees the glare and he knows he’s just started a fight.

“Fine, Harry. Pull that childish shit where you decide you don’t want to be a functioning adult and discuss your problems. Sit here in your stupid misery and think yourself to death cause you refuse to talk to anyone about anything. I tried.” Louis says. He doesn’t raise his voice or even really use a snide tone. It’s all pretty calm and collected and maybe that’s what makes Harry break. He puts his head down on his desk and just takes a few deep breaths because – well – Louis is right. Harry hates more than anything to admit that he’s wrong, but he has to, then. There’s not much he can say to prove himself right and that’s just as overwhelming as the idea of losing Lou.

“Fine. We can talk.” He says with a sigh. Louis doesn’t smile and he still looks a bit cross, but he nods. “I’m scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” It’s always been hard for Harry to admit his feelings. Everything inside of him just kind of molds and fits into a perfect form of anger and frustration that he’s able to act out on. So, everyone just assumes he’s always angry. “I’m scared you’re going to get hurt and I’m terrified that it’s going to be my fault.”

“Oh, H. It’s – I know that’s a very real fear for you and it’s not like I’m going into this blind. I know the risks, I know how likely it is that others will target me and try to come after me to hurt you. But I also know that you’re feared by a lot of them, if not all of them. So anyone who tried to come after me would be stupid. Cause I know you, Zayn, and Liam would all be out there before anything bad could happen, yeah?”

“But what if –“

“I don’t want to speculate, H. Lets just think of the here and now. Think about where we are now. I’m happy. I’m the happiest I’ve been in years. You’re happy, right? Liam said he’s never seen you smile this much. What’s holding us back?”

“I am, I guess.”

“At least you can admit it.” Louis says and he’s teasing, but it makes everything feel good for a moment. It makes Harry feel like he’s not in the middle of discussing a decision that could very easily end with Louis losing his life. He doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to think about how happy he could be if Louis were to stay.

“You know you wouldn’t have to go out on the streets if you didn’t want to, right?”

“I know. But I’d want to make some kind of money.”

“And legal money isn’t good enough for you anymore?” Harry quirks an eyebrow and Louis laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think I really have it in me to sell drugs, so I probably will end up just working minimum wage. But. Either way I’ll be happy, H. And if I’m not, we can part ways at any time like a normal, real life couple. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis hugs him tightly and it makes Harry feel grounded. He loves hugs, especially the tight ones that make him never want to let go. Louis gives the best hugs.

 

“What’s your biggest wish in the world?” Louis asks when they’re laying in bed that night, fingers intertwined as the telly plays background noise.

“To have a family one day, I think.” Harry says and Louis hums.

“Little difficult for a gay man, innit?”

“Well I suppose that’s why it’s my biggest dream.” Harry says with a little laugh. “I’d probably adopt. I don’t think I’m going to do … all this… until I die like my dad did. I save quite a bit of money and once I have enough so I never have to work again, I’ll call it done.” Louis nods his agreement.

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Iceland maybe? Somewhere small where no one will ever bother to come find me.”

“Iceland.” Louis repeats, as if he is a bit dumbfounded. “A bit random. But I could get behind it.” Harry smiles.

“What’s yours?”

“To make a difference in children’s lives. Any kids. Whether it’s adoption like you said or even just one kid in one of my classes. I want to make a difference for someone.” Harry smiles and kisses the top of Louis’ head, just wanting some kind of contact with him. He’s been craving a lot more contact lately; something about Louis makes him want to touch and be touched. It’s all a little much. “What are you thinking?”

“Bout you. Like always lately.” Louis grins a little and kisses Harry’s neck. “Maybe a little about your cock, though.” Louis snorts and rolls his eyes. Harry thinks he’s in love, but it’s such a brief thought that he refuses to acknowledge it. He won’t. He can’t.

Louis climbs on top of him and kisses him – it’s soft and delicate, just a brush of their lips – just because he can now. Harry’s not sure how they really got here or how he let himself be vulnerable enough with Louis to let him know exactly how much he likes just letting go during sex. He’s not sure how he got here at all – how he got into letting his power go and letting himself let go in the most intimate of moments – but it feels easy with Louis. Louis makes it easy to focus on nothing other than him. He demands the attention of every pair of eyes in the room and he doesn’t quiet down until he gets it.

“Just a little?” Louis asks and Harry quirks an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” Is what Harry says but it’s certainly not just a _little._ He thinks about Louis’ cock an awful lot, especially when he’s wanking and it’s a bit much. Especially in moments like this. Then Louis is grinding his hips down into his in little circling motions as his tongue runs over his lips. Harry goes to put his hands on Louis’ hips but the blue-eyed boy swats his hands away.

“Above your head.” He says, his voice slipping back into that dominant tone that makes Harry flush red in the best way. He licks his lips and meets Louis’ gaze for just a moment before he’s moving his hands above his head and gripping at the bars of his headboard. “You can look, but not touch. Kay?” Louis says with a little grin. “But like, if you need to stop. Just say stop. Good?”

“Course, Lou.” Harry says with a smile and Louis gives him one, wide, bright smile before he’s slipping back into the dominant role. He moves up away from Harry’s lap for a moment, turns around so his ass is pressing right into his crotch and grabs the remote for the tv.

“I’m gonna watch the end of the United game. You’re gonna stay there nice and quiet and good for me, aren’t you?” Harry has to blink a few times to process the words and make sure he’s heard them correctly, but Louis is turned around and he’s looking at him expectanly, like he’s waiting for an answer.

“Yeah.” He says and Louis doesn’t acknowledge him, but instead he turns his attention to the telly.

Harry’s not fully hard yet. He’s nearly there, uncomfortably stuck in between arousal and calm, and he thinks for a moment that that’s what Louis wants. He wants him to be stuck in this inbetween, for him to have to make a decision for himself if he wants to think about what Louis could be doing and get himself hard or if he wants to let it fade out. It’s a bit overwhelming. But with Louis sitting so nice right on top of him, it’s hard not to think about what could be happening right now.

Maybe he wants a little bit of Louis’ attention on him, too. He’s never been much of one to demand other’s attention, but with Louis he always wants it. Especially when they’re being intimate.

He wants to be good, though, so he stays still and quiet, just like Louis asked him to. It’s ten minutes before Louis does anything – but when he does, it’s just a subtle movement of his hips, a gentle rotating movement of his bum right against Harry’s crotch. He’s still only half hard, and it’s frustrating. He wants to touch himself, wants to touch Louis, but he just – something is keeping him from moving. There’s nothing tying him down except Louis’ word, but he thinks that’s just as effective as rope would be.

His movements get faster, press down harder when the announcer is just speaking about what the players had been doing and there’s really not much action going on. Each swivel of his hips coaxes Harry closer to that edge of full arousal, and before long he’s all the way there. He wants nothing more than to rut back up into Louis’ teasing grind, wants to grab him and pull him back to kiss him, but he _can’t._

Then, when the game comes back on, Louis goes still. Entirely still except for his finger rubbing soft circles on his bare knee cap. He can’t – he can’t keep quiet through that. It’s not something Harry could say is possible for him, so when the little whine of Louis’ name comes from his throat, he can’t help it.

Louis turns around as soon as the sound comes from his mouth, and he has a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk on his face. “Did I not tell you to be quiet?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Were you quiet?”

“Lou –“

“Were you quiet, Harry?”

“No.” Louis is staring down at him and Harry realizes, then, that Louis isn’t even a fucking United fan. He’d been using the game as an excuse.

“What do boys who break the rules get, Harry?” His breath catches in his throat as soon as Louis asks his question, and he’s – he’s stunned. Louis falls into such a dominant role so easily that it makes Harry’s head spin. He’s – he’s had other boys dominate him before, of course he has. It’s a shameless kink that he’s had since he first realized he was gay and he’s acted on it many times, but with Louis it’s different. He knows that there’s trust there – that there’s a bond between the two of them and it isn’t just for play.

“Um,” His face is red, embarrassment making his entire body feel a little heated. “Punishments.” Louis grins and taps Harry’s nose.

“Good boy, H.” Then there’s a pause. “You’re going to come in your pants like a teenager, then you’re going to suck me off.” Harry blinks up at Louis in a slight state of disbelief. Had Louis really picked up that easily that he got off on being embarrassed? God, he was too easy.

Before he can really finish his thought, though, Louis is grinding his hips slow and dirty down into Harry’s. Louis’ got joggers on and Harry’s down to just his pants, so his erection that’s tenting the thin material of his pants is obvious.

Louis is entirely relentless. He grips Harry’s wrists and pins them down against the matress as he drags out his grins and kisses Harry hard. It’s not even really much of a kiss by the end – Harry’s just really panting into Louis’ mouth, desperate little noises keening from the back of his throat.

“Lou, Lou, I’m gonna –“ Louis nods and swivels his hips a few more times, squeezing Harry’s wrists tighter as his orgasm shakes through his body and makes his toes curl. He falls back against the mattress once it’s done and Louis kisses him again, softer this time. “Wanna –“

“I know, love. C’mere.” Louis crawls back so he’s sitting against the headboard now and pulls his joggers down his thighs, letting his cock free to slap up against his belly. He crooks a finger to say _come here_ and Harry obliges, crawls over and settles himself between Louis’ legs. Louis grabs his hair and guides his head. Harry likes to tease when he gives head, though, the only time he really likes to feel control during sex, so he kitten licks at the tip of it a few times. Salty precome and the feeling of Louis carding his fingers through his hair are the only things he can really think of, so he switches to sucking gently on the head, swirling his tongue and hallowing his cheeks as he takes Louis into his mouth.

Louis comes quickly, spills down Harry’s throat as Harry’s finger nails dig cresent shaped marks into his thighs. It’s perfect.

He’s fucked out and tired and his head feels a little foggy when he finally lays back. He registers Louis getting up off of the bed and the door opening, but he doesn’t think anything about it until he feels Louis pulling his pants away and cleaning him up with a warm, wet flannel.

Louis holds him tightly and Harry thinks they need the reassurance that tonight isn’t the last they’ll have, so the tightness of their grip is necessary.

 

 

**July 27 th, 2017**

It’s past noon by the time Harry speaks a word to anyone. It’s one of the heavy days in their home – one of the days where everyone _knows_ not to mess with Harry. The tension is thick in the air and everyone was told to stay put, in case Troy came back. There’s really only one thing worse for Harry’s mood than having just killed someone: _knowing_ he’s going to have to kill someone. It’s hard to have to deal with that. When it’s a spur of the moment thing, it doesn’t bother him. But when it’s something like this, it doesn’t leave his head for the entire day and he doesn’t really _want_ to do it, but he just – he knows he has to.

So he’s angry. Beyond angry and disappointed and – honestly – he’s sad, too. He’d had more faith in Troy than this. He’d never thought that anyone could just leave their own flesh and blood somewhere to rot away and be killed for something that they did – it didn’t feel right. Maybe he is a bad person who does terrible things and he knows he’ll wind up in Hell when he does die, but there’s something about a father-son bond being shattered in such a gruesome way that he can’t even comprehend.

He and his father had been terrible together – it was just what they did. He couldn’t imagine that his father could have ever left him for dead.

With every other time this had happened, having to take collateral, the person returned _early_ to make sure that their person was safe. So. Harry was seething. First times were almost always a source of aggravation for him – he hated having to deal with situations he’d never dealt with before.

He’d thought that _not a minute later_ would have set in better for Troy – would have made it obvious that he wasn’t one to fuck with – but it seemed that he was going to have to get the message across another way. “Sir.” Niall says and Harry swivels his chair around to face him.

“Is Troy here?” Niall frowns and Harry already knows that the answer is going to be no.

“No. He’s still not here.” Harry shakes his head. “Bring Louis to me. You and Liam need to be ready to go out in thirty minutes, we’re all going on a drive.” Niall gets this solemn look on his face, like he knows that Louis is about to experience the bad end of this stick, but he knows better than to argue.

It’s really a shame. He knows that all of his people are good – more or less they all just fell into the wrong crowd at a young age and were never really able to get out – so they have these inhibitions that keep them from doing what this job requires. Harry is – well he can’t say he’s good, because he’s not, but he has the same feelings. He doesn’t want to hurt Louis, and he’s not going to. Even though they’d only spoken about it briefly, he hopes Louis knows that he isn’t going to kill him. He just – he’s never felt like this for someone else and he can’t kill that person. If it comes down to it, he’d have to make someone else do it.

Niall brings in a crying Louis, and Harry clenches his fists. “Leave us now, Niall. Half an hour.” Niall nods and closes the door behind himself when he leaves. Harry finally looks over at Louis, then, and he really does look terrified. His eyes are rimmed thick with red like he’s been crying all day, and he’s shaking.

“I told you my dad wasn’t going to show up.” He says through breathless sobs. It’s another first – because Harry has never had to face this. He’s never had to look an innocent person in the face and have them expect that he’s about to kill them. He knows his men have done that – that they’ve killed innocent people to get messages across, but Harry’s never done it. He’s always been a firm believer in only harming those who cross him directly, so he knows his resolve is weakening. It’s – it definitely doesn’t help that he really does like Louis a lot, either. He doubts the thought of killing him would have been any easier had he not liked him, but it just makes it so much harder. “Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Louis.” This seems to startle him, and he blinks a few times. Harry’s made his decision. He is not going to kill Louis.

“What?” A few more tears roll down his cheeks, but this time they seem to be happy tears, so Harry just gives a soft, genuine smile.

“Come sit with me for a minute.” He gets up and walks to the little leather sofa in his office. It’s mostly for decoration, keeps the room intimidating whenever someone walks in, but he feels the need to sit close to Louis when he explains this. He’s not sure why, but it feels important. Louis is hesitant, he can see that in his movements, but before long, he takes a seat beside Harry. “I’m not going to kill you.” He repeats, just to be sure that the point gets across. “You’re a drama teacher, right?” Louis furrows his eyebrows. They’d spoken about this before, too, but Harry hadn’t really thought it could have been used to his advantage before.

“…Yeah? So?” It seems to not really set in for Louis, either, so Harry just smiles. This might actually work.

“Lets use your acting skills, then.”

“I don’t like this.”

“Look, Louis, I’ve never done this before. I’m letting you live, so you either chose to take that or – don’t. If you don’t play along, it’ll have to be real. So, what do you want? I don’t want to hurt you. I’m rather fond of you, but there are just things I have to do.” He says, that familiar anger bubbling up in his chest. Even if he wants to pretend that he can be good, he still doesn’t like being told no. Maybe that’s a learned trait, but he’s been told no so few times in his life that it doesn’t feel right to hear it said to easily.

“You don’t have to.” Louis says, lips turned down in a pout. “You could just – you could just leave. Escape. You don’t have to live like this.” Harry shakes his head.

“Maybe we can talk about that more later, for now, I need you to cry again. Like. Slam on the gas, alright? I’m giving your father a call.” This seems to make Louis freeze.

“I’m –“ A pause. “Fuck. Fine. But if for nothing else, I’m just saying this is for revenge against him, okay? Don’t – I don’t like this.”

“Then consider it revenge against him.” Harry says with a shrug. Whatever it takes to get the job done – he doesn’t care. He just knows it needs to be done and he needs to teach Troy his lesson.

“All right. Why am I crying?”

“Be creative.”

“Harry!”

“Fine. Pretend someone’s just like, ripped one of your finger nails off.”

“Oh, shit.” Louis’ voice goes back to the same scared tone, but this time it doesn’t seem to be for himself. Just for the thought of people who’ve had it done to them. Or at least Harry hopes.

“It’s not unheard of.” He shrugs again and pulls out his phone. “All right, I’m going to call him now, but you don’t need to say anything until I prompt you to. When I do, just, you know. Play your character whose about to die and all that.” Louis nods. “Liam!” He yells and waits. About ten seconds later, Liam is coming into the room. His lips are bright red, but Harry doesn’t mention that. He doesn’t like to think about how he probably interrupted him and Zayn.

“Yes?” He asks and his eyes flick over to Louis. Harry smiles.

“Close the door.” Liam looks a bit scared, or maybe guilty, and then the door is closed and Harry glances to Louis. He catches his second up on their little plan and by the end of it, all three of them are on board and ready to get back at Troy.

“So. What should I do?”

“Just interact with him in the background. Make it sound real.”

“Easy enough.” Liam says with a nod. The room doesn’t have the dead-like atmosphere it had had just a few minutes before, and for that Harry is grateful. He knows how much tension his moods cause, and he’s always hated it, but there are just some things that he can’t really change.

He dials the number and the phone rings. Once, twice, three times. “Harry –“

“Hello, Troy.” Harry says, voice smooth and calm. Louis’ cries are soft in the background, just enough so Harry knows Troy can hear them. “As much as I’d love to hear your excuses for not being here, I’m sure your son is much more interested.”

“Wait – no. Please. Please don’t hurt him.” Troy sounds serious enough, but Harry knows first hand how good he is at lying, so he doesn’t buy it. “I’m almost there. I swear.”

“Are you now?” Harry asks with a little chuckle. “You want to know what I really think?” Harry pauses, but the question is rhetorical. Troy knows not to answer. “I think you’re at London Station right now, waiting for the one o’clock train out to Manchester. Because I know that’s where your girlfriend lives. I know the first thing you’re going to do there is make sure she’s still alive and that your other children are, too, and then you’re going to take them and flee elsewhere, am I right?” There’s a cough on the other line, like a choked off surprised noise. “It’s incredible what tracking a credit card can do, innit, Troy?”

“Fine. Fine. So you caught me, Harry. I – I don’t have your money. Not all of it.”

“So, your plan, then, was just to leave your son here with me and let him die, then? That’s rather unfortunate.” Liam whispers something in Louis ear and he screams – and shit it sounds real. It sounds like they’d really just done something to hurt him terribly and he can’t help but wince a little.

“ _Fuck!”_ Troy says loudly. “Don’t – please stop hurting him. You win, Harry. You win. Just let him go.”

“You need to come to me, Troy. It’s 12:23 right now, so Louis is safe until one. Be here.”

“Wait – wait. I need. I need some kind of proof that you haven’t kill him yet. Put me on speaker.” Harry looks to Louis and puts the phone on speaker. “Louis? Louis it’s – it’s your dad. I’m so sorry for all of this, I really am. I’m – I know you hate me and I know you’ll probably always hate me, but I just need you to know that I’m gonna fix it now. I promise.” Louis doesn’t say anything. “Please – say something. Say okay. Say yes. Say you hate me. Something.” Louis looks to Harry again, then swallows hard.

“Please help me.” He says and Harry’s heart breaks. Louis didn’t have to act to let those words come out of his mouth. Liam seems to notice, too, because the tension is back when the phone is hung up.

None of them say anything, but Harry just stares out the window.

“You can leave, Louis.” He says, and Liam stares at Harry for a moment. “You’re free to go. You’ve done what you need to do.” Louis looks at him and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“You’re – what?”

“I said you can leave. What about that are you not understanding?”

“Harry – did I do something wrong?”

“Your dad doesn’t need to save you. You got brought here under shitty circumstances, but it’s not up to him to do that. It’s up to me. So. Leave.”

“Harry I was just – I was playing a role. Like you said.” Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t believe him, but maybe this is for the best. If the two of them separate on a bad note, he won’t miss him as much.

“Liam, tell Zayn to drive him home. I need you here for when Troy shows up.”

“All right.” Liam says with a nod and stands to go and get Zayn. As soon as he’s gone, Louis speaks again.

“What exactly am I supposed to go back to, Harry? I don’t have a job, my house is probably forclosed because I haven’t paid my rent, and my girlfriend is probably off with someone else. What exactly do you think I’m supposed to go back to? You –“ Louis is crying again. “I’m confused here, Harry. I thought – you said. You said I could stay if I wanted to.”

“But you _clearly_ don’t.” Harry sneers.

“How can you say that?” Louis says with a frown. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told _anyone._ Trusted you with things that no one in my life knows. You said you cared about me and now you’re just going to send me off?” Harry’s head hurts. Louis has one nothing for him except confuse him and distract him from what he really needs to focus on. It’s – he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing but everything feels wrong and scary and _bad._

“There’s one thing I need you to understand, Louis.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t get to care about people. I don’t get that chance. If I care about someone, they will die. Especially if you’re not affiliated with … all of this. Someone will find you and kill you. Not because you did anything, but because they want to hurt _me._ That’s what you don’t understand about all of this, Louis. My life isn’t good. It’s – I’ve tried to keep you sheltered from a lot of it, but it’s all a big game of power. If I slip up and show weakness, whether that be through Troy thinking I let him off the hook or letting people see how much I really, really care for you, something bad will happen.” Louis looks down at the ground.

“I watch the news, Harry. I know what you do and – it doesn’t scare me. I know what your life is. I know how it goes and I know what it would mean to stay here with you. I’m not ignorant. We already talked about this and you know all of this, but I’m going to say it again. For both of us. I have nothing I really want to go back to anymore. My family – I haven’t seen them in years. Every day I’d wake up and just be ready to go back to sleep at night. So, maybe it’s stupid and maybe it will kill me, but I wake up here in the mornings and I’m excited. I want to be alive when I’m here because it’s exciting.”

“Stop, Louis. You’re – maybe all of this fucked with your head more than it was supposed to.”

“No, Harry. It’s not – shit. I’d know if it was stolkholm syndrome or something. I’m not in love with you. I know that you taking me in a bullshit attempt to hurt my dad was wrong, but I also know that I – I kind of like my life here. I know it’s fucked and I know that it’s wild, but it’s true. All right?”

“Louis. You really shouldn’t stay here.” Harry says again and sighs softly. “If a new life and a new identity is what you’re looking for, we can do that for you. I know someone who can make fake everything – construct you a new life, give you everything you want.” Louis shakes his head.

“Fine. I can take a hint.”

“Just know that it’s for the best, yeah?”

“All right.”

 

When Troy shows up at one o’clock, Harry doesn’t have it in him to drag it out. “Give me all the money you have.” He says with a sneer and Troy hands him a backpack. Harry opens it and – well – at least he had some. It’s filled with pound notes, and he sets the bundles of thousands out on the table. There’s 50,000 exactly, which is only ten short of what he was owed. It’s not that terrible.

But – at the bottom – there’s a flashing light.

“You piece of shit.” Harry says and holds completely still. It’s a bomb. He glares at Troy who just has this sick grin on his face – like he’s not going to explode with the rest of them.

“It’s not as much fun when you’re not in control, now is it Harry?”

“That’s really what this is about, then? You don’t want to die by yourself?”

“Of course. I figured you’d have been smart enough to just let me go without too much hassle. But the things is, you hurt my son and I’m pretty certain you were planning on killing me before I left today. So. Here’s your ultimatum.”

“You don’t get to give me an ultimatum, Troy. That’s _my_ job.”

“It seems that it’s not anymore. Considering I decide when the both of us die.” He holds up a little pen looking thing and his thumb is pressed firmly against a button. “If you shoot me, my grip releases and it goes off. Your only way out of this alive right now, Harry, is to let me go.”

“You think you’re so sly, don’t you? You’ve trapped yourself, too. Because if you let go, you die right alongside me. So why would I believe that you’d let go?”

“Because I’m going to die either way, right? You said it yourself. If I came back short, you’d kill me. But I know you well enough to know that you were going to kill me whether I had the money or not.”

“Harry?” Louis voice says from the top of the stairs, and then there’s the sound of footsteps. Troy’s head snaps to the side. Louis comes a bit closer – and then he freezes. “Dad?”

“You said you killed him, you piece of shit!” Harry just laughs.

“Oops. I forgot I’m supposed to be truthful all the time.” There’s panic in Troy’s eyes, suddenly, and Harry crosses his legs. “He wasn’t meant to come down here at all, really, but now you know. Louis’ fine. In fact, there’s not a scratch on him. But if you chose to let go of that button, you’ll be the one who killed him, too.”

“You’re not killing me today, Harry. I refuse to let that happen.”

“That’s fine. Disarm it, then.”

“Disarm what?” Louis asks, and his voice is shaking. Troy still looks like he feels terrible, and suddenly Harry doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t – he really doesn’t care if he dies. Liam is upstairs and he’ll take over when he dies. It’s all all right, but he can’t let Louis go down with him.

“Louis, go back upstairs and go outside.” Harry says softly. Troy’s eyes flick back over to his son, but Harry doesn’t stop staring right at him.

“What?”

“God dammit Louis! Go!” Troy screams and Louis jumps. “I have a bomb. Alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? I thought you were dead and –“

“No. I’m not leaving. If you kill Harry, kill me, too.”

“Louis, you’re being ridiculous.” Harry says. “This is my fight. Go.” Troy’s resolve is failing and Harry can see it. He can see the strain on his face to keep a serious expression and he can see how much he really doesn’t want to do this. It’s all written so easily across his facial expressions and Harry can’t help but let that calm him down.

“Dad, I’m not leaving.” Louis looks right into Harry’s eyes, but his head is turned away from Troy. He winks. He fucking. _Winks._ Like all of this is some kind of joke. “So it’s your choice, now. Before, you left my life in Harry’s hands, but now it’s in yours.”

“Louis. Don’t do this.” Louis sits on the table and just looks to the wall. Harry assumes that he’s just looking at a painting or just trying to distract himself, or maybe he really is crazy. He knows that there has to be some kind of repercussion here – from all of this – but he’d never thought it would have come to this. Maybe he really did scar Louis. Would this be some kind of PTSD? He doesn’t know and frankly, he doesn’t even know why he’s worried about it, because he _should_ be worried about the bomb that he’s still holding in his hands, but he’s not.

It’s all about Louis and, right there in that moment, he realizes that it always will be.

Troy grabs the backpack and fiddles around with something inside of it, then he tosses it across the room and lets go of the pen. There’s no explosion – and everything is fine. Niall comes a bit closer, then, and has a gun to Troy’s head, firmly pressed against his temple. “Sir?” The blond boy asks, and Troy’s bottom lip trembles.

“Do it.” Louis says and Harry looks over to him, shocked. He’d only hesitated because he really didn’t want Louis to have to watch him kill his own father. “Like you said, weakest link, right? He’d tell people about all of this.”

“Do it.” He echoes to Niall, and the blond just nods. Louis turns away before the trigger is pulled, but then it’s over. Louis is on the floor within seconds, throwing up, and Harry kneels beside him and rubs circles on his back. “You didn’t have to make that decision. You’re going to feel bad now, aren’t you?” He doesn’t get an answer, but he knows. “Don’t let yourself feel bad. That was my call, all right?”

“Harry?” Louis asks.

“Yeah?”

“Take me to bed. I just. I just want to lie down.”

 

 

**July 28 th, 2017**

Harry wakes the next morning to an empty bed, but there’s a note sitting on the night stand. He already knows what it’s going to say, so he just stares at the ceiling a while before he can garner up the courage to actually open it. He feels a bit sick, and it’s all overwhelming, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

_Harry –_

_Come find me when you’re ready to see me again. I got my paperwork from Ed. Thank you for that – and I took one of your books. Hopefully that’s okay. But then again, you did promise me money, so I’m just hoping you’ll let this count as that. I’ll be in Húsavík, Iceland by nightfall. I hope to see you again one day._

_-Louis_

He sighs softly and falls back against the bed. He isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready to see Louis again, because the only thing that could mean is leaving this entire life behind. He could. He knows he could do it easily, run away and be free from all of this, but then the past would have time to catch up with him and he’s not sure he’s ready for that, either.

Maybe one day.

 

 

**May 9 th, 2020 **

Leaving wasn’t really a hard decision. He’d wanted to leave really since the day he got the letter from Louis, but it just – it was too sudden and he really hadn’t known anything except the work he’d been doing before then. So staying for a few years was the only option that really seemed viable – afterall, he had told Louis that he would need to save up a pretty significant amount of money before he’d ever be willing to quit.

He had. He had enough money that, if Louis still even wanted him, neither of them would have to work a full time job for the rest of their lives. It was a comfort, a security that he knew wasn’t something he could have had if he would have just left when he was young and unsure and frankly a bit afraid. He’s still afraid, especially as he walks through the airport and the sound of the heels of his boots clicks against the white tile of the floor beneath him.

His ticket is in his hand and he knows where he’s going, but it’s a lot to handle. He’s fueled by the memory of Louis and the fondness he had for him in the short three weeks he’d known him. It’s a bit stupid and entirely pointless to think that Louis would still think about him years later when it was such a short lived relationship, but he isn’t sure he could live with himself if he didn’t try.

Louis was the first person he ever let himself _feel_ for. Before him, he’d let himself slip into that mode of hardness and ruthless, cruel actions, but Louis brought back a part of his humanity that he hadn’t even realized he lost. So, maybe it was ironic. It’s entirely ironic that Harry became dependant on him, instead of the other way around, but he doesn’t like to think about that too much.

The only thing he lets himself think about is how much he wants to know about Louis and how much he cares about him, still.

He’d gotten his fake papers pulled up, changed his legal first name to his middle name. It’s not really creative – he knows – but it’s enough. He’s leaving the country now, so the chances of getting caught are much slimmer. He also knows that if Louis isn’t interested in him anymore he’s going to go right back to where he was before and it’ll just become an unfortunate vacation.

He just really, really hopes that doesn’t happen.

He gets to his seat on the plane and leans back, takes a few deep breathes. Only two or three people join him on the plane and he’s surprised that it’s such a small flight, but it’s expected. That’s why he’s always wanted to go to Iceland, to be alone. For things to be quiet.

Once the flight attendant goes through the spiel of what to do if they crash, he puts his headphones in – with his phone on airplane mode – and lets himself fall asleep. The flight is much too long for him to be interested in staying awake.

 

When he wakes up, they’re landing. It’s the turbulence that wakes him, jolts him suddenly to the left and wakes him quickly with a gasp. The woman sitting in the seat across the isle from him gives a soft smile and it’s comforting enough for Harry to realize that he’s not about to die, so he accepts that gladly.

The flight is shaky the entire last half hour or so, but the pilot comes over the speaker and assures that everything is fine.  He hates flying, he decides.

 

When they land, the woman approaches him again. “Hi.” She says softly. She has a thick accent that makes Harry smile. “I’m Margret.”

“Edward.” Harry says, easily slipping it back into his memory that he is now Edward, according to the government.

“What brings you here?” She asks as Harry pulls his bag from the overhead compartment. She motions for him to follow as she walks off the plane and he does so easily. She’s easy to talk to, he finds, and conversation flows between them easily.

“I’m visiting a… friend.” He says, unsure if that’s even something he should really be allowed to call Louis. They haven’t spoken a word to each other in three years. “How about you?”

“Oh, I was in London doing the same.” She smiles again. “Does your friend live here?”

“No, he’s in Húsavík.”

“Oh! My sister lives there. It’s lovely. I think she mentioned a british man moving there, actually. About three years ago. Is that him?” Harry is taken a bit aback – suddenly more interested.

“Well, I assume so, yes.” Harry says with a grin. “I actually haven’t seen him since he left. We didn’t part on the best of terms, so I’m trying to…”

“Make amends.” She finishes for him and he nods. “Well, if you’d like to meet my sister you’re welcome to. She should be here to gather me.” He nods in agreement as they walk through the terminal. It’s tiny but warm and the view is wonderful from the windows.

They talk more as they walk and he finds out she’s twenty two and in university studying to be an animator with the hopes of moving to America one day. He listens to her talk, but when the question is thrown back at him, he tries to be as honest as he can. He just says he never went to uni or even really finished his A levels, because he didn’t. She seems to understand though and doesn’t even try to judge him.

“Louisa!” She calls out to a woman who looks very similar to her, but maybe a few years older. “This is Edward, I met him on the plane.”

“Oh, hello Edward.” The woman says and shakes her hand. “I’m Louisa.”

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”

“Oh, hush, Edward.” Margret says softly. “He has a long lost friend in Húsavík, the British one you told me about? He thinks that might be him.”

“Louis?” The woman asks and Harry’s heart speeds up.

“Yes – yes. His name’s Louis.”

“Oh, he’s wonderful. He’s a teacher at the school now.” Harry smiles. “If you want to run into him, he goes to the café every morning at 5:30 and sits at the third booth to the left.” Harry nods.

“Thank you so much. I owe you a lot.”

“No. Young love is enough payment of itself.” Harry flushes red and watches as the ladies walk off with two waving hands.

 

He catches a cab to a hotel and sleeps with the hopes that he’ll find Louis in the morning.

 

It’s 5:00am by the time he finds himself at the café. It’s small and the waitress gives him a funny look when he requests to sit in a certain booth. She doesn’t speak English at all, so he has to google translate his requests and she laughs at his terrible pronunciation but she’s kind and gives him soft smiles.

She brings him a coffee and Harry thanks her. He drinks four cups as he sits and waits for Louis, but each minute that passes feels like it’s longer than the last.

His heart stalls a bit when he looks at the time to see it’s 5:29 and there’s the jingle of the bell above the door saying it had been open. Louis comes up to the booth and he pauses, gives Harry a long, hard look before he looks somewhat angry. “You’re in my seat.” He says and Harry blinks a few times.

“Louis.” He says and Louis’ head snaps back to look at his face – and then there’s a look of recognition.

Its’ quiet, entirely and totally quiet between the two of them before Harry is up and scooping Louis up into a tight hug and Louis squeezes back with a fever that proves everything he’d been worrying about wrong.

They hold on tight to each other for a long while, eyes of people around the restaurant on them but he doesn’t care.

He’s known all along that Louis was his end game.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought. Here's [my Tumblr](http://louis-love.tumblr.com/) and if you're feeling generous, feel free to [buy me a cup of coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A237HRB)


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